


Untitled Triangle Lost Memories Fic

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Memory Loss, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hook, Belle, Rumplestiltskin. A love triangle complicated by revenge, a memory loss curse and a case of amnesia that might or might not really be real. Rating will eventually go up. Spoilers for Season Two, Episode Eleven.</p><p>Fic started in January 2013, was my first attempt at the Once Upon A Time Fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Disclaimer Time: I do not own Once Upon A Time or any of the characters from that show. I am merely borrowing them for a time. I also do not make any money off of this story. It is done merely for entertainment purposes.  
\-----Michelle 

 

There was only one road that led out of Storybrooke. One road amidst the thick woods that surrounded a third of the town, the trees bearing silent witness to the all too few comings and goings of the townspeople. Not many tried to leave Storybrooke, even before the curse had twisted into something far more sinister. Even less tried to visit the town, the curse having worked to defend it's captives from outsiders for roughly twenty eight years. 

It was fact that only one person had successfully left the town. Just as it was fact, that only one--well two, had defied the curse long enough to be admitted into it's lands. The curse, no longer as strong as it once was, still retained the power to affect those caught within its grasp. Ultimately changing those who attempted to leave, stripping them of their memories, of their true selves. 

Faced with an unappealing choice, the townsfolk of Storybrooke, had erected a marker, a line signifying the point of no return. So far all had agreed, to lose oneself was worse than remaining trapped inside the town. 

All but one, Gold mused. The car moved under the control of his hands, it's high beams cutting a path through the otherwise darkness of the night. Besides him, lost in her own thoughts, sat his beloved Belle. But he could all but taste her nervousness, and Gold knew it wasn't all to do with what he was about to attempt. 

They had been through a lot this day. An old nemesis had appeared, one Gold thought he had left behind in the other world. Because of this man, this wretched, mangy pirate, Belle had learned things Gold had hoped to hide from her forever. Of runway wives, of an abandoned coward, and what that man had done once driven to an insane rage. 

Gold was still unsure if he entirely regretted killing Mila. But often he regretted acting so impulsively in the instant. Some days he imagined he should have just enslaved Mila, instead of crushing her heart the way she had his. Certainly the pirate might not have been driven by such a rage fueled vendetta, not to the point his need for revenge would motivate him to cross time and space to follow after Gold. 

He still wasn't entirely sure how Hook had managed that. How a magically powerless pirate had manage to defy all circumstances, to land himself in Storybrooke. Gold had guesses of course, assuming it was the evil sorceress Cora who had lent the pirate a hand. He almost snorted then, managing to keep the smirk off his face at the unintended joke. 

Belle stirred besides him, a questioning glance his way. Gold pretended not to notice, eyes on the road, even as he continued to ponder the situation facing Storybrooke. If Cora was involved, if she had somehow had enough power to defy the curse Gold himself had made, then Storybrooke was facing an unparamount of danger. Now was definitely not the time to be attempting to leave. Gold cared little about the many people of Storybrooke, but the one person he didn't want in danger sat beside him. And he knew she couldn't come with him, Gold having only enough potion left to enchant ONE item. 

That precious item sat resting on his lap, the scarf looking old and worn, despite all the care it had been shown over the years. It was his son's scarf, the one thing he had left of Bae. It was thanks to Belle's efforts he still had hold of this, his beautiful beloved as brave as she was smart. Though Gold should be angry at her for defying his orders, and risking herself in the process, he was also grateful to her for her efforts. Gold just wished those same efforts hadn't put her in prime position to learn from Hook the extent of Gold's misdeeds towards the pirate and Mila. 

Belle insisted that was in Gold---Rumplestiltskin's past. She forgave him for the things he had done as the Dark One, insisted that she saw the good that still remained inside Gold. She didn't understand that he hadn't really changed, that the Dark One's curse hadn't been broken. She was lured too easily by the fact that Gold no longer looked like a beast, practically turning a blind eye to how quickly he could act like one too. 

It was for Belle he had spared the pirate. Only for her, for the chance to keep her believing in him. To keep her in love with him. Really, Gold still felt the anger boiling inside him, come alive whenever he so much as looked at Hook. Never mind how insane with anger he had felt when the pirate had dared talk about Mila! 

Gold knew Hook deserved to die. But for Belle, because she was so merciful and kind, that wretched pirate still lived. Broken worse than the day Gold had killed Mila, and probably nowhere smarter. Gold didn't think Hook would actually do as he had been advised. The ship would most likely never leave Storybrooke's harbor. Gold himself would eventually track down Hook, and end him in a manner befitting scum like him. 

As pressing as the need to kill Hook was, there was another just as powerful need. The need to find his son. The need to safeguard Belle. Those two were almost in conflict, at least so long as dangers unexpected lurked in Storybrooke. 

Gold didn't know how close the dangers truly were, wrongfully assuming the pirate was out of commission for the moment. He didn't know that Hook was waiting, hidden by the many trees clustered together on either side of Storybrooke's exit road. 

Captain Killian Hook Jones, leaned against a tree. He needed the support, his whole body aching, his ribs seeming to protest with nearly every breath he took. He didn't think they were broken, a fact he had thanks only to the monster's woman. Belle for all Hook had attempted to do, all the threats he had made, had proven far more merciful than Rumplestiltskin could ever be. 

Her kind nature was more than Hook or Rumplestiltskin deserved. Certainly a monster like Rumplestiltskin didn't deserve a woman like Belle, nor should that demon be allowed a chance at attaining his happily ever after. Hook knew now that he didn't stand a chance of killing Rumplestiltskin without possession of the Dark One's dagger. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could destroy the happily ever after Rumplestiltskin was so close to attaining. 

It didn't matter what happened to Hook after. He had NOTHING to live for, hadn't had anything since Mila had been taken away from him. The only thing that had kept Hook going for all these years, the sole motivating force had been revenge. He could die a happy man, once he shattered Rumplestiltskin's life, took from him something as precious as Mila had been to Hook. 

It didn't matter that Belle was an innocent caught in the crossfire of a blood vendetta. Rumplestiltskin HAD to pay, had to know grief and suffering of the magnitude Hook had been through. His only good hand patted the pocket of his leather trench coat, feeling for the gun he had taken from Belle herself. A cold smile twisted his lips, his eyes empty of feeling, as he watched the approaching car slow to a halt mere inches from the cursed boundary of Storybrooke. 

They didn't immediately get out of the car. Rumplestiltskin actually paused to hold up Bae's scarf. staring at it, then at Belle with a gentle wonder in his eyes. 

"This would have been lost..." Gold said to Belle, and just thinking about it, made his stomach knot in anxiety. "If it wasn't for you, Belle." 

She actually smiled at him then, her whole face warming with the expression. She warmed even further at Rumplestiltskin's next words, knowing just what exactly he referred to when he said he would have been lost. It still gave her shivers, Belle remembering the savagery displayed as Rumple had attempted to beat Hook to death with his fancy walking stick. The whole experience with the pirate, had been frightening, but nothing so much as the moment when Hook and Rumplestiltskin had confronted each other. 

Belle didn't think it was just because of her that Rumple had spared the pirate. She felt it had to do with that glimmer of goodness that still sparked inside him. A glimmer she was positive could become more, Rumple learning to be something other than the Beast. 

"After everything you learned about me..." Rumple was saying. "After everything I've done..." He wasn't quite looking at her now, though his expression was almost amazed, as though Rumple found it hard to believe she could forgive him for all he had done, all he had once been. 

"Why haven't you given up on me?" Now their eyes met, Belle smiling more. She didn't even try to hide the love in her eyes, remembering the vow she had made moments before the Evil Queen Regina had taken her prisoner in the other world. A vow to find and fight for Rumple, and save him from himself, from the curse, from everything. 

"I learned a long time ago...." She said out loud. Her voice was thick with emotion. "That when you find something....It's worth fighting for." 

Rumple's lips trembled, the man looking almost near to tears. That he could have such emotions, proved to Belle there was more to him than just the Dark One. That he could become better, that he could learn to be something other than the beast. 

"Come..." With a push of a button, the doors to the car unlocked. Together Gold and Belle would walk to the red tape that marked the point where crossing over would strip oneself of their true persona. Belle was now holding Bae's scarf, Gold reaching into his pocket to pull out a tiny potion bottle. 

This was going to be a test, a mere confirming that the enchantment would work for him. He wouldn't, couldn't leave just yet, no matter how much one part of him wanted to. The other part had to make arrangements, had to make sure Belle would be safe even if Storybrooke would not be. 

Holding up the scarf, Belle watched as Rumple poured out the contents of the potion onto the buttery yellow fabric. Within seconds, the scarf would glow with enchantment, the light alternating from a pale blue to white. 

She barely heard the sound of the empty bottle hitting the ground, Belle's hands shaking. She was tearing up, knowing what this meant. A parting would happen. Either Rumple would leave to search for his son, or the enchantment would fail, and he would no longer remember her. She almost wanted to beg him not to do it, but couldn't allow herself to be that selfish. 

And so, hands shaking, body trembling, eyes holding on to her tears, Belle wrapped the scarf around Rumple. "Okay..." She could only manage to whisper the word, too choked up with emotions to speak properly. But she forced a smile on her face, Rumple touching her arm in a show of support before they pulled apart. 

"Here we go..." Rumple sounded a mix of excitement and nerves, slowly moving to cross the red border line. He didn't let go of her arm immediately, allowing the connection between them to linger until the last possible second. And then he was over, his while body glowing with the same blue and white lights that had passed over the scarf's fabric. 

A wind seemed to surround him, his hair moving from it. Rumple stood with his back to Belle, the woman actually holding her breath, praying the enchantment had worked.  
Rumple didn't immediately turn, just standing there as though stunned. It made Belle think he really had lost his memories, his sense of self. And then he turned, his expression almost dazed. Scared for him, Belle stared, then nearly crumpled with relief when a genuine smile was given her. 

"Belle." Rumple said, all but grinning at her. 

"Yes!" She cried out, stepping closer to the line. They reached for each other at the same time, Belle half laughing, half crying. "It worked!" 

"It did." Rumple said, hands caught and held by Belle's. 

"Now you can find your son." Belle said, managing to calm herself somewhat. Rumple was nodding, happy one instant, then regretful in the next. 

"Belle, I so wish you could come with me." 

"As do I." Belle told him. "It doesn't matter." 

She could see that confused him, Rumple looking almost panicked as though he feared she HAD changed her mind about him after all. 

"Why not?" He worridedly asked out loud. 

"Because you'll find him. And when you do, I'll be here waiting for you when you get back." She squeezed his hands, trying to make him understand how sincere she was. 

Sadly smiling, overcome with emotions, together they leaned towards each other. Moving to do more than just touch, to seal Belle's promise with a kiss, when a loud sound rang out, Belle's body jerking violently in reaction. 

Gold didn't realize immediately what had happened. Didn't react in time to prevent Belle from toppling forward over the boundary line. She actually fell into his arms, Gold stumbling back with her, seeing the glow of the curse magic course over her, stripping her of her true self. 

His mouth was open, a slack jawed expression of pure disbelief on his face as he fell to the ground with Belle. He barely registered the words, barely made out the form of the pirate standing just a few short feet away, a vindictive expression on his face, a gun smoking in his hand. 

"I wouldn't count on it." Hook said, all but sneering at Rumplestiltskin. He was waiting for something more to happen, waiting for something beyond the initial thrill of excitement, to fill him. He had after all finally exacted revenge on the monster. Rumplestiltskin's happily ever was destroyed, Belle lying crumpled on the ground. And yet all Hook felt was a hollow emptiness inside him, a realization he had always known whispering in his mind. Mila wasn't coming back, no matter what Hook did to Rumplestiltskin. 

"Belle? BELLE!" Rumplestiltskin was shouting, all but ignoring Hook. It would have been so easy for Hook to shoot the monster as well, but that would have defeated the purpose of his attack on Belle. Rumplestiltskin needed to suffer, needed to know what it felt like to lose the woman one loved. 

"Belle?!" 

The woman was making pained noises, and then she grimaced, practically shouting. "Belle?! Whose Belle?!" As confused as she was, it couldn't hide the pain in her voice, the woman looking as though she was confused about why Rumplestiltskin was not doing more to help her. 

That was when Rumplestiltskin let go of her, looking down at his bloody hands. He cast about in disbelief, his shock, his grief becoming all the more pronounced when he saw that they were both over the boundary's line. 

"No no no...." Gold was saying, and he turned back to Belle, trying to find the source of her wound. But even if he stanched the blood, nothing would work to save her from the curse. "Belle..." 

"Oh fear not...." The voice made things go calm in Gold's head, the frantic, panicked man almost swallowed up by the cold, rational Dark One. "She'll live." 

Gold lifted his angry gaze to Hook's, feeling the magic gather within him, the Dark one aching for it's release. He barely registered that Hook didn't look as happy as one would expect a man to have been after accomplishing his long sought after revenge. 

"She'll just have no idea who you are." continued Hook, still keeping the gun trained on Gold. 

"What you've done cannot be undone!" Gold cried out. 

"Now you're finding out how it feels!" Hook screamed back. He met Gold's gaze, sneering as he spread his arms wide, openly welcoming the death promised in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Go ahead Crocodile, do your worst!" 

Cradling Belle, Rumplestiltskin lay her down on the opposite side of the boundary line. And then, with his hands lifted, flaming balls of magical fire hovering over both palms, Rumplestiltskin hissed, murder and malice in his eyes. 

"Oh I intend to." 

Hook all but laughed, a wide grin on his face now. He still posed with his arms spread, ready for death, readying for the chance to be reunited with Mila. There was nothing left for him now, in this world or the other. Cora was on her own, Hook had done what he had craved to do for so many years. 

Gold tensed his arms, preparing to throw both fireballs at Hook. The lights that came from behind him surprised him, as did the sudden sound of a car horn beeping. Even Hook looked startled, Gold throwing himself on top of Belle, barely rolling them both out of the way in time. 

Hook wasn't so lucky, the swerving car careening straight into him. Gold could only watch in amazement as Hook took the air, then landed heavily on top of the car. The car continued forward, starting to twist out of control. Hook fell on the ground, and lay there unmoving. 

The car came to stop right next to the sign that welcome people to Storybrooke. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed ominously, as though a new facet of the curse was taking effect. Gold had no idea what this meant, or who that could be, spying the car's license plate. It was not one he recognized, and the fact that this HAD to be a stranger almost distracted him from Belle and Hook. 

Almost. 

As bloody and bruised as Hook had already been, there was always a chance the pirate had survived the car crashing into him. Gold had to finish the job, had to do what Belle had begged him not to. This time there would be no mercy, this time he would make sure Hook was dead. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	2. Two

This might just be the worst day of her life. She could have laughed at that thought, a somewhat hysterical feeling overtaking her. It shouldn't have been funny, shouldn't have amused anyone. Not when the sad fact was her life had been a series of bad days for as long as she could remember. 

Not that she always trusted her memories. Not when there was so little to recall, aside from being locked in near darkness, the days and nights blurring together seamlessly and without end. She was sure that once she had not always existed inside that cold room. That once there had been something more to her life, than waiting endlessly for the door to open to freedom. 

But she couldn't remember anything before her time in that room. Was it because of the drugs they had given her? Had they stripped her of her memories, or was she simply that damaged? Either way it had been horrible, existing for nothing, doing nothing, being nothing. 

And then something HAD happened. A break in an otherwise excruciatingly dull routine. The door had opened, as it sometimes did. She had barely looked towards it, figuring it was another drugged meal delivered, food she would eat just enough of to keep on living. Even as she had been sure there was nothing worth living for. 

But the man at the door hadn't had anything in his hands. Had actually let the door remain open, a bright light spilling into the room, nearly blinding her after so long in the darkness. She hadn't known what to feel, what to think, blinking rapidly, cringing more from the light than the man. 

And then wonders of wonders, he had talked to her. How wonderful it had been to finally be acknowledged, to be something more than just a number. Instead of a patient---prisoner, he had treated her like she was a person, leading her out of the darkness. No one had tried to stop them, and she was following, amazed, almost dazed, barely noting her new surroundings, or what building they had walked out of. 

The man didn't stay with her once they were out of the building. But his words remained, his voice ringing in her head, telling her to find a Mr. Gold. To find him and tell him what had been done to her, and by whom. 

It had been exciting, terrifying. She had wandered the streets, fearing that at any moment she would be dragged back to that room. Dragged back and swallowed up by it's suffocating darkness. But somehow she had found him, had found Mr. Gold. And the look in his eyes. the tender, overcome expression he had worn as he had held her, had made her believe his sincere promise that he would protect her. 

It had begun to look like the bad days were over with. She had actually let herself hope, trusting in Mr. Gold to make everything right for her now. It was why she went with him to the woods, why she followed him almost blind with her trust in him. And now, she was still in the woods, but something, everything, was wrong. And it wasn't just the fact that her reality had jumped abruptly from day to night, and that she was no longer walking, but laying on the ground in an enormous amount of pain. 

The pain and the fact she couldn't remember how she had been hurt in the first place, or why it was now night instead of day, frightened her. Perhaps the scariest of all, was the look on Gold's face, the frantic, panicked fear, the way he was practically sobbing, crying out a name over and over again. 

In that moment, she didn't feel safe, didn't feel protected. She hurt, and she was confused, but most of all she started to feel angry. Wondering if this, the worst day, would also be her last, hating the unfairness of that possibility, and not understanding why Mr. Gold didn't do anything more to HELP her. 

"Belle! Belle!" Mr. Gold was saying, over and over again. "Belle!" 

She found she could speak after all, the pain making her tone angry, her voice practically screaming. "Belle?! Whose Belle?!" 

Gold dropped hold of her then, his hands lifting. She could see how badly they shook, just as she could see the blood on most of his fingers and palm. She knew instantly it had to be her blood, and if she had been scared before, she was even more so now. 

And still Gold did nothing, just hunched over her, sobbing a word repeatedly. "No, no, no!" She stared up at him, convinced by his reaction that she really was dying. And wished she had never left her prison. Better to stay in that stifling, suffocating darkness, than to die after finally getting her first taste of freedom. 

Either way she didn't want to die. Either way she wanted to fight, even if it meant she'd be returned to that room. That thought, that desire to fight, is what kept her conscious, kept her from slipping into a sleep she was sure would lead to her death. 

As she thought these things, some kind of drama was being played out around her. She could hear another man talking, but she couldn't focus on his words. Or Gold's, thinking she was hallucinating when balls of fire appeared over his hands' open palms. Those balls of fire truly made her question her sanity, made her think maybe she truly belong locked away. Because how could this really be happening, how could those fireballs even exist? 

Just as abruptly, they were extinguished, a bright light flooding the area. Gold seemed to remember her, throwing himself on her, rolling them both out of the way of a speeding car. It hurt to be moved, her entire arm, even her shoulder, crying out in protest. The pain almost made her lose focus, Belle almost not hearing the violent thuds, the squeal of tires grinding on the pavement, or the way the car slammed to a sudden halt. 

Gold was crouched over her, glancing quickly down at her with that grief stricken expression, before looking around. She watched fascinated as his expression warped, the look in his eyes menacing, ugly. Never had she seen him like this, though that wasn't really saying much. Not when she had known him for less than a day. It was still terrifying, and she hoped he NEVER looked at her that way. 

He started to rise off of her, actually jostling her arm. It made her cry out, pain lacing her features. The sound she had made, it drew Gold's attention to her, the menacing look fading somewhat for concern. But it was still there, battling for supremacy, Gold looking away from her, back at something in the darkness. 

He seemed to nod to himself, making a decision. And when he started to step away from her, she panicked. Was he actually going to leave her? When she was in pain, bleeding, and scared? When she was most likely dying? Tears began falling down her cheeks, her chest heaving in panicked breaths. Pain twisted inside her, focused on her shoulder, her good arm moving. Grabbing at Gold's leg. 

"Don't leave me!" 

He glanced down at her, and again that conflict of emotions battling it out on his face. As though he was of two minds, and each had their own desire to attend to in this moment. 

"This will only take a moment, Belle." 

"Not Belle." She gritted out, not letting go of his leg. "I'm Marjorie." 

That did nothing but make the angry, murderous look spark more determined on his face, Gold attempting to move away from her. 

"Please!" She begged, no longer having the strength to hold on, to stop him from walking away. She heard his feet crunching on the gravel, Gold moving away from her. And something else broke inside her, the tears flowing faster, Marjorie beginning to sob loudly. Gut wrenching, heart breaking sounds, the woman weeping for everything lost, feeling as though there was more to what was going on than she could understand in the moment. 

"Belle!" Instantly he was by her side, as though her tears had the power to hold him there. He was actually kneeling in the gravel, touching her. Cradling her as best he could, Marjorie trying to grip hold of his coat in an attempt to cling to him. 

"Don't...please...." She weakly cried. "Promise me. Promise me you won't leave me. I...I don't want to die alone." 

Gold looked startled then, his eyes growing wet with his own emotions, though he did not actually let the tears fall. "You're not going to die. I promise you." 

He had also promised to protect her, and look at how well that had turned out! 

"Please...please...!" She kept on repeating, clinging to him, to consciousness. "Call for help." 

He actually hesitated! She didn't understand why. What reason could he possibly have for delaying such a thing? 

"It hurts." She said, letting her voice, her expression fill with the true extent of her pain. 

That moved him to a decision. Gold reaching into his coat's pocket. A small phone was pulled out, the man fumbling to open it. He kept on cradling her with one arm, the other lifted so he could speak into the phone he held. 

"Yes, there's been a....there's been an accident at the boundary." Gold was saying. "Belle's been hurt." 

"Not Belle." She tried to remind him, watching the way he reacted in impatience to whatever the person on the other end of the call was saying. 

"I don't give a damn about the others." Another pause, Gold's annoyance mounting by the second. "Fine, there's at least three people down." He exhaled a deep breath, as though trying to control what he was feeling with that sigh. "Hurry. Hurry!" He urged, then tossed down the phone. 

"They'll be here as soon as possible." Gold told her, a menacing look in his eyes. "As soon as possible, or so help them...." 

Marjorie couldn't help but shiver at the threat in his voice, truly believing he would hurt whoever was responsible for help being delayed. Gold didn't notice, too lost in whatever dark thoughts drove him in the moment. He kept on looking away from her, looking at something in the dark. His impatience remained, Gold almost desperate to do something, but seeming loathe to break his promise to her. 

The fact that he didn't, that he stayed with her when it was clear he was focused, determined to do something else? It scored a point with Marjorie. She didn't feel safe, didn't exactly feel protected, but the situation as wrong, as horrible as it was, felt right. As though she had accomplished something, something far greater than getting Gold to remain with her for what could be her final moments. 

To distract herself from such thoughts, Marjorie spoke to Gold. Her voice was hoarse from too much sobbing, Gold actually having to bend his head closer to make out her words. 

"Tell me..." She all but begged. "What...what happened...?" 

Gold hesitated before speaking. "You were shot." 

"Shot?" She echoed, brows drawing together. "By who? Why?!" 

"It doesn't matter." She managed a snort in response, Gold ignoring that rude sound of hers, to continue speaking. "He won't trouble you anymore." 

"He who?!" She demanded, feeling a chill go through her. Gold was looking menacing again, a promise, no a threat in his voice. 

"He won't be bothering you, or anyone for that matter." His voice dropped lower, Marjorie straining to hear him. "If he's not already dead, he soon will be. I'll make sure of it." 

Her whole body shivered, Marjorie turning fearful at the cold, angry vow Gold had just uttered. It frightened her, but a part her felt the need to talk him down. To keep Gold from committing cold blooded murder. She didn't understand that need, but she tightened her fingers' grip on his coat. 

"Don't...Don't leave me." Was all she would say. 

"I won't. I promised you, Belle." 

"Not Belle." She insisted. "Marjorie." 

He opened, then closed his mouth, Gold not acknowledging the words she had spoken. Marjorie sighed, relaxing just a little against him, though she refused to sleep. 

"I'm getting blood all over your coat." She murmured. 

"It doesn't matter." Gold said, and she almost laughed then. Was she getting lightheaded from the loss of blood? It must be so, if she could find anything humorous about the situation. 

From far away, the faintest of sound intruded. It was sirens, help still far away but at least coming. Gold didn't relax. If anything he tensed up, casting another menacing look at something in the darkness. Marjorie now felt that it had to be at SOMEONE, perhaps the person responsible for shooting her. 

She both wanted and didn't want to see the face of her attacker. But Gold held her in such a way, that her view was blocked by his body. 

Sighing, Marjorie heard the sirens louder now. Within minutes the ambulance arrived, their lights brightening the area even more. 

"It's about time!" Gold growled. No actually response was given, the ambulance grounding to a halt, the doors to the vehicles' back already swinging open. Medical personnel would jump out, their equipment at the ready. 

"Over here." Gold's commanding tone, had three of the medics veer towards him and Marjorie, a stretcher being rolled to a stop mere inches from the pair. Immediately one of the men, and a woman would drop down to their knees, Gold reluctantly handing Marjorie over to their care. 

"She's been shot." He said, and the woman reacted with a question. 

"Who would want to shoot Belle?!" 

"A dead man." Gold hissed, and all three of the medics shivered. They would then actually freeze up when Marjorie spoke, the woman pointedly insisting her name was not Belle. 

"She crossed over." Gold said, his tone quiet now. Their looks horrified, the three medics all turned, finally noticing how close to the red line they truly were. 

"No..." breathed out the woman. 

"Never mind that!" Gold snapped. "Help her!" 

They set out to do just that, cutting the coat off of Marjorie. Her sleeve and a portion of her coat's back stuck to her, sticky from her spilt blood. The medics were forced to peel the fabric free, their attempts gentle but inefficient when it came to sparing her pain. Gold grew even more incensed with every whimper Marjorie let out, the woman trying and failing to keep quiet as her arm was jostled. 

Poking and prodding her, they ended up cutting some of her shirt as well. The wound itself would be examining, the location of it in her shoulder area. Gauze and bandages would be used in an attempt to pack the wound and staunch the blood. 

"It didn't go all the way through." One of the male medics announced in hushed tones. 

"The bullets still inside? Well, get it out then!" Snapped Gold. 

"We will, once we get her to Storybrooke General." The woman assured him, her own tone frightened. It seemed Gold scared just about everyone who came in contact with him. 

"We're going to move you." One of the men said. "This will hurt. I'm sorry." 

Marjorie nodded, biting her lip to keep from letting out any more of the whimpers that so enraged Mr. Gold. She managed somehow to be quiet as they lifted her onto the stretcher, and it did indeed hurt, Marjorie desperately wanting to cry out. 

"I'm riding with her." Gold announced, following her and the medics to one of the ambulances. No one tried to argue against this, Gold climbing into the ambulance alongside Marjorie. He'd go so far as to take up position besides her, holding onto her hand. 

"See?" He smiled down at her. "I won't leave you. Just like I promised." 

"Thank you." Marjorie whispered. In the background, she could hear other voices, though their words were lost, muffled by the sirens. There seemed to be an aura of tension from what she could tell, some kind of worried excitement that had nothing to do with her own injuries. They were clearly upset about something, but what that something was, she wouldn't be privy to anytime soon. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	3. Three

They had given Belle a drug for the pain, some fast acting agent that lessened but did not stop completely the hurt she was experiencing. But it worked enough that the woman had stopped biting on her lip, her expression showing her relief at no longer having to hold back her cries. It was for his sake she had attempted not to make a sound, Belle fearing Gold's reaction to every little whimper that did slip out of her. But he couldn't help it, his emotions in turmoil, grief, anger, a stricken desperate need to bargain with anyone who would listen, rolling through him. 

But not even the Dark One was powerful enough to defy the curse. Not when it was the strongest one Gold had ever made,so powerful it had uprooted an entire world and dumped them into this realm. And though Gold himself had never invoked the curse, leaving that bit of nastiness in Regina's hands, he was now paying the price that magic always demanded. 

Gold had thought the twenty eight years trapped in the town had been the magic curse's price. On him, and on all of them. He had been patient though, enduring, making deals, biding his time. Waiting for the savior to come and break the curse. But it hadn't been a complete breaking, the curse twisting into something new. Gold had assumed it was the price he had paid for bringing magic into this world, and he had accepted that. But he hadn't waited, working to find a way around the curse, to break the magic that would steal from him his memories, making him forget the whole reason why he put these events into motion in the first place. 

Baelfire. Ever since he had lost his son to a vortex created by a magical bean, Gold had been searching. Striving for a way to find and reunite with his son. Regretting that he hadn't been brave enough to abandon his magic, to go with his son through the vortex to a land where he would be just a normal man. Stripped of his magic and powerless. 

It was to find Bae that he had created the curse. For Bae that he had tricked and molded Regina into becoming powerful enough, twisted enough to use such a powerful piece of magic. Counting on, hoping, that the magic's price would be exacted from the Evil Queen, and her alone. 

He should have remembered. Magic targeted all involved in the making and use of it. Leaving even the Dark One unable to escape unscathed. 

Now, his smart, courageous, beautiful, beloved Belle had been taken from him. Was the curse finally satisfied? Had Gold finally paid enough for it's creation? The alarming thing was, he did not know! It might not be content to take just Belle from him, to steal his chance at happily ever after with her. It could very well go after his son the next time Gold tried to leave, and yet he refused to consider giving up. At best the curse could only delay his leaving, changing his focus, his purpose, to the tending of Belle. 

He refused to acknowledge the name she clung to. Refused to speak it, let alone think it. No matter what happened, no matter who she thought she was, his beloved would always be Belle to him. 

"Belle." He whispered, the woman's eyes glazed over from the drug. If she had heard his whisper, she didn't acknowledge it. Didn't so much as utter a protest of the name he kept on calling her. She just held on to his hand, her grasp weak and growing more so with every second passed. 

The ambulance couldn't arrive fast enough at the hospital, Storybrooke General's doors opening, over a half a dozen nurses and orderlies rushing out to greet them. Not all would go with Gold and Belle, some of them waiting for the other ambulances to return. Waiting for the stranger, and for that damnable pirate to arrive. 

Just that brief thought of the pirate, and Gold's blood boiled. Anger so hot and fierce, so dark and all consuming battled his concern for Belle, Gold torn between staying with her, and leaving to finish off Hook. It was only her weak fingers grasp, that kept him there. Only her touch that grounded him. Gold would remain with her every step of the way inside the hospital. Clinging to her hand as much for Belle's sake as his own, that tenacious grip of hers the sole thing keeping him from losing control. From unleashing his magic, hurting and killing those around them, in some vengeance fueled quest to get to Hook. 

The fools around them didn't know the danger they were in. Didn't know how close to losing it Gold really was. If they had known, the medics would have never tried to separate them. Would have never pried Belle's hand free of Gold's, let alone hurriedly wheeled her away at Gold's first sign of outrage. 

He tried to follow of course. Tried to go into the operating room. Bulky shaped orderlies of an impressive height and weight, came to stand in his way, but he could see the fear in their eyes. One of them stammered, nearly choking on the words. 

"You can't go in there. Authorized medical personnel only." 

"Get out of my way." Gold hissed in a steely tone of voice. 

"Please." A nurse who had once been nothing more than a milkmaid in their old world, approached him. She was visibly shaking, eyes showing her fright as she tried to reason with Gold. "You have to let us help her." 

Maybe if he hadn't had the Dark One's violent urges within him, the need for vengeance pumping through him, the gathered magic not demanding a release, Gold would have listen to reason. Maybe if another doctor hadn't approached, hadn't said that Gold could do NOTHING, then violence wouldn't have broken out. 

But all those things were happening, Gold losing what shred of control he had left, insulted, grieving, knowing the doctor was right. He couldn't do anything, not to help Belle get her true self back. He couldn't even use magic to remove the bullet, too scared of the price it would demand for healing his beloved. 

Gold's eyes turned black with rage, one of the male orderlies swallowing. The other shifted into a defensive stance, as though he stood a chance of fighting the Dark One. The doctor who had so foolishly spoken the wrong words, couldn't see Gold's face, couldn't see the Dark One peeking out. He reached for Gold's arm, perhaps intent on leading him away from the operating room's doors. 

With a backhanded swipe through the air, Gold sent the doctor flying, the man crashing into the closest wall. Screams were heard, the one orderly panicking, a wet stain appearing on the front of his pants. The other actually rushed towards Gold, then grabbed at his own throat. Gold was choking the life out of him, the orderly gasping for breath, fingers clawing at his skin. 

It was effortless to use this kind of power, the magic flowing out of Gold like it was an extension of himself. Even as he choked the orderly, he was sending the other one flying, even the nurse was slammed into the wall. The orderly clawing at his own throat, was down on his knees, eyes frightened, his mouth opening and closing on panicked gasps that would never get him the air he needed. 

It wasn't the kind of death he wanted to give Hook. Wasn't the kind of slow torture he wanted to inflict on the pirate. But it felt good all the same to imagine doing to Hook what he was currently doing to the orderly. It made Gold more vicious, the man about to twist the spell, and break the orderlies' neck, when a woman's voice rang out. 

"GOLD!" 

It wasn't her voice that moved him to stop. He certainly didn't react to the authorative way she attempted to sound. But at the sound of a gun being cocked and aimed, Gold turned, his magic loosening it's grip on the orderly just enough to allow the man a single breath. 

Across the hospital floor, Gold met the determined stare of the townspeople's savior. A stare directed at him over the top of her gun, her grip steady as she tracked him. Gold felt an honest moment of disbelief, followed by derision as his lips curled in a sneer. 

"Are you actually believing that, that TOY could stop me? ME?!" 

"I'm willing to find out." Her finger was on the trigger, her stare never wavering. "If left with no other choice." 

It gave him pause, Gold actually considering the moment. Wondering how it would feel to be shot, if a weapon like this could actually hurt one such as he. Guns and bullets didn't exist in the other world, he had no way of knowing if the weapons of this realm were more powerful than the Dark One's magic. Certainly an idle thought had Gold wondering if he could survive a nuclear blast, or one of the many other inventive weapons the people native to this world had come up with. 

The savior, one Ms. Emma Swan, seemed to think Gold's silence was an agreement of his surrender. She began inching closer to him, her weapon remaining trained on him, as she began to speak. 

"Let him go, Gold, and we can talk about this." 

"Yes, let's TALK." Gold agreed, and with a relaxing of his fingers, the orderly collapsed, taking wheezing breaths of air into his body. "Let's talk about how you've failed to do properly your job." 

"My job?" Swan frowned at that. "What do you mean?" 

"You had one reason for existing." Gold told her. "One and only one, and that was to break the curse." 

"I DID break the curse." She retorted, not losing her frown. 

"No, you didn't. Not completely. And because of your bungling, Belle....BELLE is laying there injured, stripped of her very self, her memories!" 

Ms. Swan to her credit, actually paled. "She's been over the boundary?" Did her eyes soften in sympathy? But Gold didn't want her sympathy, he didn't want anything from her unless she could fix what had been done to Belle. 

"Not by choice." Gold said, and Swan frowned again. 

"What does that mean?" She demanded. "Stop being cryptic and tell me." 

The hospital which had gone quiet in this section, now filled with new noise, another patient having arrived. Swan didn't turn to look, didn't dare take her eyes off of Gold. But he? He looked, and instantly the rage filled him, Gold starting to lift his hand, ready to do what he had been delayed from doing earlier. And that was to kill Hook. 

"Don't!" Swan screamed, and a bullet fired. And yes, it did hurt, when slammed into his shoulder, his body actually jerking in reaction. 

"This won't kill me Swan!" Gold snarled, and she was readying her weapon a second time. 

"But it will slow you down." 

"You little fool." Gold snapped. "Why are you even here?! Why are you not at home with your son, protecting him?" 

"He's safe enough with Mary Margaret." She retorted. "I've got questions, ones you might be the only one who can answer. We have to...." 

It was then that Hook was wheeled past her, Swan's attention shifting long enough for her to see and recognize the pirate. But she didn't act as surprised as she should be, as though Swan had already known Hook was in Storybrooke. 

"You KNEW." Gold stated, Hook forgotten for the moment. He moved towards Swan, not caring that Hook was being sent into another operating room. His own attention had been shifted, his anger focusing on Ms. Swan. "You knew, and you didn't think to tell me? To warn me and Belle?" 

Swan seriously looked as though she was considering shooting Gold once more. "I only just found out tonight." She told him. "Hook's not the only one in Storybrooke. Cora's here as well." He said nothing to that, watching as Swan betrayed her nervousness by licking her lips quickly. "Gold...we need your help. If the people of this town are going to be safe..." 

"I don't give a damn about Storybrooke!" He snapped loudly. "The only one I care about, the only one who is precious to me in all of this town, is laying in that operating room. She may not die from what has happened tonight, but she'll never again know who she really is, nor will she remember ME." 

"I...I am sorry." Swan whispered hoarsely. "But..." 

"But nothing!" Gold snapped. "Now you will stand down, and get out of my way, or I will MAKE you." 

She wasn't cowed by his threat, the gun remaining trained on him. "I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else, never mind kill Hook." 

"He deserves to die!" 

"That's not up to you to decide." She retorted. 

"If not me, then who?" Gold demanded. 

"A judge and jury of his peers." She frowned at his rude laughter, Gold shaking with disbelief. 

"You intend to use this realms laws to serve justice for Belle and me?!" She just nodded in response, Gold nearly spitting. "Little fool! This world can't comprehend what needs to be done to a man like Hook! He, we, none of us are originally from this world." 

"It doesn't mean you get to do as you please." She interrupted him. 

"It means exactly that!" 

"I am still sheriff of this town." Swan reminded him. "If you go after Hook, I'll...." 

"You'll what? Shoot me again?" 

"I'll lock you up." She was so matter of fact about it, ignoring the way Gold laughed and sneered at her. 

"And how do you propose to manage that?" He demanded. "With magic? When you couldn't even effectively imprison Regina?" He stepped even closer to Swan, voice low but dangerous. "I'm a dozen times more powerful than the Evil Queen. You don't stand a chance. NONE of you do." 

With a twist of his fingers, the gun was pulled from Swan's hands. She actually gasped, and took a step back, only to find magic throwing her into a wall. Swan hit it hard, the impact knocking some of the fight out of her. 

"Gold....!" 

He was ignoring her, heading unimpeded towards the operating room, where Hook waited. Swan cried out again, weakly trying to push up off the floor. 

"GOLD!" 

"No more talking Ms. Swan." He retorted, and then she said the one thing that got him to freeze in his tracks. 

"Don't do it, don't do it for Belle's sake." 

"Belle...." He whispered, than roared out a shout. "Belle is gone! Gone! Because of him!" Anguish cracked his voice, but Gold refused to break down completely. Refused to let anyone see him weak and suffering with grief. "I've lost her because of Hook." 

Swan didn't try to argue that, didn't try to placate him with promises she couldn't keep. She simply reminded him of what Belle had seen in Rumplestiltskin, reminding him of the spark of goodness his beloved had believed he still had. 

"Belle would ask you to spare him." Swan said. "Not for Hook's sake, but for yours. For the goodness she knew was still inside you. Honor the person she once was, the love she had for you, and SPARE him." 

Gold continued to hesitate, but inside he knew Swan was right. Belle was so kind, so merciful, so full of good will, and belief in Rumplestiltskin, that she would have begged Gold to spare Hook's life. She wouldn't have done it out of any care for the pirate, she would have simply been focused on saving Gold, on giving him his soul back. 

Swan wasn't Belle. But she spoke the cold awful truth. In doing this, in killing Hook, he would be severing his last tie to the person Belle had once believed in. He couldn't, shouldn't dishonor Belle, or the love that they had had, by killing Hook in her name. But Gold wasn't sure he could let Hook go that easily, not without making the pirate suffer even worse than he had. 

"All right Swan." Gold finally said, his energy relaxing, the magic settling within him. But always it remained in reach, ready to leap free and do the Dark One's bidding. "Hook's earned a stay of execution." 

Swan let out a sigh of relief, not seeming to notice the unspoken words that lingered in the air. Hook had earned a stay of execution, but Gold wasn't sure for how long it would be. Wasn't sure he could control the Dark One's nature inside him, Gold hungering for vengeance. For now it would have to be appeased with the fact that Hook would be in an extreme amount of pain, should he even survive whatever operations he was currently undergoing. Gold might even make sure there was no pain relieving drugs available to Hook, and the very idea almost, ALMOST made him smile. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued!


	4. Four

The first thing Marjorie truly became aware of, as she slowly began to awaken from a drug induced slumber, was the voice. Tinny and distant, faint enough that she had to truly focus to make out what was being said. And with that focus, more awareness seeped into her, Marjorie becoming alert to more than just the words. 

It was Mr. Gold who was speaking. Mr. Gold whose voice was soft with unspoken pain and puzzling emotions. Marjorie didn't understand why he was so overcome, or what could affect him so strongly. But she felt as well as heard his grief, the hands gripping hers trembling badly. 

Marjorie didn't immediately open her eyes, content to lay there and drift in and out of consciousness. The drugs she had been given, had dulled her pain quite well, and Marjorie no longer felt certain she was going to die. And with that fear gone, the woman felt she could finally, truly relax. 

Mr. Gold kept right on talking, the sound of his voice oddly calming to her. She never quite fully went back to sleep, lingering in that in between state of dreams and realty. But no pictures formed in her mind, not even the fanciful ones that might have been brought on by Mr. Gold's voice. By what he was saying, the man talking of things right out of a story book. 

Marjorie didn't understand what he was talking about, or why. She didn't even hear all of it, existing as a passenger arrived at a story already half told. Something about a princess, her courage and love strong enough to change a beast. 

"That beast still needs you, Belle. I need you..." And those were perhaps the strangest of all the words Mr. Gold had been saying, the man squeezing her hand tighter in his grasp. "I can't do it without you, Belle. I can't be that good person, not without you to stand and support me. Not without you believing in me." 

Her hand still gripped by both of his, Marjorie heard movement. She started to flutter her eyes open, at the exact instant Gold let out a plea. 

"Come back to me, my beloved." 

Her eyes snapped open, Marjorie finding Mr. Gold's face entirely too near. His eyes were intent on her, but already a mask was slipping into place. He was hiding from her, both the grief, and that flicker of guilt she HAD managed to see. Marjorie wondered if that guilt had anything to do with the fact she was sure he had been about to kiss her, Mr. Gold lingering closer than was appropriate to her. 

"You're awake." Gold stated, and slowly eased back from her. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better than I should, for a woman who thought she was dying." Marjorie managed, sure her smile would make her look loopy. "I never thought I would say this, but drugs can be a wonderful thing." At least when they were helping her to manage her pain, and not sapping her fighting will and energy away. 

"Are you in any pain?" Gold asked solicitously. "Shall I summon the doctor?" 

"I don't think there's any need." Marjorie told him. "At least not at the moment." Curiosity in her eyes, she gazed at him. "What was that story you were telling me? I don't think I'm familiar with that particular fairy tale." 

Abruptly the warmth around her hand was gone, Gold having let go of her. It was alarming how much she missed that touch, that warm, anchoring presence. Just as alarming was how much more of his expression closed up, Gold definitely hiding something from her. 

"Mr. Gold?" 

"You'll be happy to know not only were they able to remove the bullet, it didn't do extensive damage." Just like that, it was made obvious he would speak no more about fairytales. "With some care and therapy, you'll make a full recovery. It shouldn't take more than a few weeks before you have full use of that shoulder and arm." 

"I see. That IS a relief." Now Marjorie turned her attention to her bandaged right arm, noting it was feeling numb in comparison to the rest of her. "How long was I asleep?" 

"Just a few hours." Was Gold's answer. 

She looked at him, now noting his clothing was the same as it had been earlier. His dark coat made it difficult to see the blood, but Marjorie was sure it had more blood on it than she remembered seeing before.

"Is all that blood from me?" 

"It's nothing you need to worry about." Gold assured her. "I was ready to get rid of this ratty old thing anyway." 

The coat hardly looked ratty, well made, and obviously expensive. Marjorie couldn't begin to imagine how she could hope to ever repay him for the ruin of it, and yet she found herself speaking on it anyway. 

"I'll replace it." Gold looked surprised, Marjorie hesitantly nibbling at her bottom lip. "Just as soon as I'm better, and can look for a job." 

"Don't worry about it." Gold quickly said. "Don't worry about anything but getting better." 

"But..." 

"The coat is replaceable, you are not." Gold told her. 

"Was I really that close to being lost?" For one all too brief second, she glimpsed some deep pain in his eyes. But it was quickly swallowed up by that guarded mask of his. "What happened?" She prodded, once it was apparent she had asked another question Gold wasn't going to answer. "Why would anyone want to shoot me?" 

"That's a question I'd like the answer to as well." 

Marjorie nearly gasped, not having noticed sooner the woman standing in the room's open doorway. She was tall, with long, blonde hair. Her generous curves was accentuated by the jeans, and the form fitting jacket she wore. On the red leather of the jacket, some kind of badge had been pinned, a silver sheriff's star reflecting the bright lights of the room. 

"Ms. Swan." Gold's voice practically hissed with his displeasure, the man not quite rising. "As you can see, she is no condition to answer any of your questions." 

"Let me be the judge of that." Ms. Swan said, her own tone calm in spite of the visual displeasure Gold was showing her. 

"She was shot just a few hours ago." Gold argued, now standing. "She needs her rest." 

"I don't doubt that she does." Swan agreed. "But I can't help but feel you are stalling." 

"And why would I do that?" 

"To get the time needed to have her go along with whatever story you'll come up with." The blonde woman retorted. Marjorie lay quietly in her bed, looking back and forth between the woman and Mr. Gold. She felt very much like a witness to a spectator sport, wondering who would win and get their way in this. 

"I don't need to make up stories." Gold sniffed haughtily. "Just as you don't need to be harassing Belle." 

Again that Belle name, Marjorie frowning to hear it. 

"You should do at least one of your jobs right, and arrest Hook." Gold continued. 

"Before I make any arrests, I'd like to get her statement. Maybe then it'll make more sense why Hook would do this." 

"Hook?" Marjorie said out loud, her voice gaining their attention. "Is that who shot me?" 

"She can't tell you anything, because she doesn't know anything." Gold seemed infuriated. "Her memories...." 

"Are confused." Marjorie admitted. "I'm afraid Mr. Gold is right. I...I can't recall much of anything that did happen." 

"Let's start then with what you do know." The woman said, ignoring Gold's protest, to come closer to Marjorie's bed. "You're name is?" 

"Marjorie...." She whispered. But as hard as she tried, a last name wasn't forth coming, Marjorie frowning. "I'm sorry. It's feels like it's been years since anyone has asked me something so simple as what my name is..." 

"Well, Marjorie, I am Sheriff Emma Swan." The woman gave her a kind smile. "I only want to do what's best for you." 

"What's best is putting down that rabid dog Hook, so that you can focus on finding and dealing with Cora." 

But Gold was ignored, the sheriff focused on what Marjorie had to say. 

"Does that include...putting away the people that hurt me?" She was rewarded with Swan's determined nod, Marjorie wondering if she had it in her to trust the sheriff. To truly trust anyone, after all she had been through. 

She had trusted Mr. Gold, at least in the matter of him protecting her. So far that protection hadn't amounted to very much, Marjorie shot and hurt. But, and this was important, she hadn't been returned to that awful place, to that cell hidden away in darkness. 

"I don't know who did it or why..." Marjorie softly, hesitantly spoke. "But...I've been locked up for a very long time. Tortured even." A glance at Mr. Gold saw the tightening of his expression, the man's anger different from the anger he had shown when arguing with the sheriff. "I've forgotten so many things....and that's provided I even knew them in the first place." 

"It's all right." soothed Sheriff Swan. "I'll do everything I can to help you." 

"Somehow I doubt your help is what she really needs." Gold grumbled. That earned him a withering glare from the Sheriff, the woman challenging as she spoke. 

"And you've got that great a track record in helping her? It's because of you she was caught up in Hook's revenge. A revenge that has more to it, than anything either one of you are willing to share with me." 

"I wasn't aware you were so...intimately associated with that pirate." 

Swan kept her gaze level with Mr. Gold's. "I thought you knew everything." 

"Hardly everything." 

"Then you're either good at guessing, or possess a talent for seeing the future." Swan retorted. 

Marjorie was feeling very lost, finding what the Sheriff and Mr. Gold were saying was very cryptic and confusing. She was definitely missing something important, some key knowledge that would have made things easier to understand. 

"I'm just very good at preparing for every outcome and eventuality." Gold smiled, but it held none of the warmth and pleasantry he had shown Marjorie. The smile he gave Emma Swan was cold, more sneer than anything. "A fact you and yours have been reaping the benefits of." 

"What?!" 

"You DID get my note after all." Gold said pointedly. 

"You mean to tell me you used up the very ink that could have freed you, on the off chance I would end up in that place, and need it's magic?" Swan asked, then scoffed. "To believe something that absurd, I'd have to also be willing to believe you wanted to remain in that cell. That you wanted the curse to happen." 

"Believe what you like, sheriff." Gold's voice had the chill of ice in it. "My reasons for doing things remain my own." 

Marjorie could see how much that frustrated the sheriff. Just as she could tell it pleased Gold to annoy the blonde haired woman. She wondered if either person even cared how much they were confusing her, Marjorie not understanding anything about curses and magic. But she did pick up on one word in particular, Marjorie looking at Mr. Gold. 

"You were once imprisoned too?" 

Out the corner of her eye, Marjorie saw the sheriff startle, as though the woman had forgotten all about her. Gold however, didn't look at all upset that Marjorie had been privy to such talk, and that made her wonder why. 

"It was a long time ago." 

"Is that why you helped me?" Marjorie asked. "Because you know what it's like to be held against your will?" 

"There's deeper meaning to it than that." Gold answered. 

"But for now, you're just going to leave her to wonder?" Swan asked, than practically threw her hands up in exasperation. "Great, wonderful. If we're through with arguing, and thoroughly confusing her, can I get on with my inquiries?" 

"I'm sorry to say, those are really going to have to wait." Yet another new arrival to her room, Marjorie seeing a fair haired man, dress in green colored scrubs. A white doctor's jacket had been hastily thrown over them, hiding most of the blood staining his scrubs. 

"Doctor Whales, what is it?" Sheriff Swan asked, a concerned look on her face as she moved to approach the doctor. "Is it Archie?" 

"Doctor Hopper is fine." Whales answered. "Aside from some lacerations and bruising, the worst he is suffering is a mild case of dehydration." 

"Thank goodness." breathed the sheriff in relief. 

"It's about one of the men brought in." Doctor Whales did a brief nervous glance at Gold. 

"Hook." growled Mr. Gold. 

"What about Hook?" Swan asked, putting out her arm to stop Gold's advance forward. 

"He's awake and..." 

"That bilge rat survived?!" Gold demanded sounding almost in disbelief. 

"Well yes and....." 

"He's got more lives than a cat!" Gold grumbled. "And is far trickier to skin." 

"Um....eww." Swan said, giving Gold a disgusted look. "I did not need to hear that." She then turned her attention back to Doctor Whales. "How bad off is he?" 

"He was quite bruised and battered BEFORE the car hit him." Again a look at Mr. Gold, the man just giving them a disarming smile. "Frankly, I'm amazed he's not worse off than he really is." 

"That can easily be fixed." Gold muttered darkly. 

"You are not going to go all vigilante and exact any more of your own brand of justice on Hook." The sheriff warned him. Gold just gave her a look, making no promises on that. 

"It'll be some time before you can move him." Whales continued. "He'll need additional care, the kind the county jail can't give. And that's provided you'll still want to arrest him..." 

"IF she'll want to arrest him?" Gold interrupted. "What's to change her mind about that?!" 

"As much as I hate to agree with Gold on anything..." Swan began. "What would change my mind on that front?" 

"I've been trying to get to that." Whales said, his impatience at last showing. "With all that's been done to him..." 

"All deserved, I can assure you!" 

"With all that's been done...." Whales said, voice getting loud with his annoyance. "It's really no surprise to me, that the head trauma would cause such a condition." 

"Head trauma?" Swan questioned sharply. 

"Condition?" Gold asked at the same Swan spoke. 

"His memory." Whales said. "It's gone. He doesn't know who he is, or what he's done." 

There was a moment of silence, both Gold and Swan just staring in disbelief at the doctor. And then Gold let out a sliver of angry laughter, hissing about how perfectly fooled Hook had the doctor. 

Whales looked insulted. "I can tell when a patient is faking." 

"Oh, of course you can." Gold said, his tone mocking. "I'm supposed to believe in your abilities as a mind reader, just as I am supposed to believe Hook suddenly, conveniently lost all his memories?" 

"Did he ever come close to crossing the boundary?" Swan asked. 

"He never came close enough to be affected by the curse's power." Gold answered with a sneer. "You're as big a fool as Whales is, if you're willing to believe Hook's lies." 

"Only one way to find out." Swan said. She then turned to look at Marjorie, who had sat quiet and enrapt of the conversation the trio had been having. "Marjorie, I'm sorry. My inquiries will have to wait." 

"It's all right." Marjorie assured her. "Go. Do what you need too." 

Swan smiled at her, then gestured at Whales. "Take me to him, Doctor." 

"And just what do you hope to do?" Gold asked. "Beat the truth out of him?" The man looked like he relished the thought of that. 

"You're forgetting something. I can ALWAYS tell when someone is lying." 

"That is an unproven magic you speak of." Gold said. 

"Unproven, but not unheard of?" Swan asked sharply. 

"I'm sorry....WHY do you all keep talking about magic?" Marjorie interrupted pointedly. 

Swan gave Gold a look. "You want to field this one too? I have a pirate to question." 

"Not without me, you don't." Gold looked at Marjorie, his expression softening towards her and her   
alone. "This shouldn't take long." He was saying. "I'll be back before you know it. Until then, rest." 

"But..." 

Gold had already turned away, gesturing impatiently for Emma and Whales to precede him out of the room. Marjorie could only sit there and watch, as both her current and potential protectors, walked out on her. 

Feeling abandoned, Marjorie sighed, collapsing back against the bed's pillows. She had no idea of even half of what was going on, and what she had heard was making her question her reality, her sanity. After all for words like curses and magic to be bandied about so naturally, so normally, well, it spoke of a reality that was anything but normal. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	5. Five

His whole body was on fire, what drugs he had been given not doing enough to deaden the pain. He'd settle for even one moment of relief, for even one second to not have to feel the pain that was a continual throb going through him. He had already annoyed the nurses, his ongoing quest for relief having tested the limits of the hospital staff's patience. But no matter how much he begged and moan, even cursed and growled, they continued to insist they could do nothing more for him in the moment. 

He didn't believe them. He couldn't! For if they were telling the truth, if they had really given him the maximum allowable dose of pain relievers, then he was going to be in for a lot worse hurting once the medicines wore off. 

From the way they were acting, he got the feeling he was lucky to even be alive. He didn't feel lucky, not with the throbbing pain souring his every thought, his very mood. Surely death would have been preferable to this, or at least that's how he felt in the moment. 

It hurt to breath when his ribs were cracked. They weren't the only injury he had, his body covered in bruises, along with cuts and scratches, and even several deep lacerations from when he had landed and smashed into a window. That window had been attached to the car that had hit him, the impact such that he had been sent flying. As bad as the initial hit had been, the landing had been worst. 

The landing was when he had broken his foot. He had been told he had slammed down onto the hood of the car, landing not on his back, but on his side. His right leg had been the one to take the most of that particular impact, foot first fracturing, then breaking after he had slid off of the hood to land on the hard ground. 

They weren't even sure on which of the multiple impacts he had endured, which one had caused such severe head trauma to him. But it had been enough to put him in critical condition, the doctors having to work double time to save him. He was supposed to be grateful that they had shaved his head, and drilled a small hole into his skull. 

He wasn't, but they told him that wasn't unexpected. That depression was a symptom associated with this particular trauma. They assured him that as the swelling of his brain subsided, eventually the depression and most of the side effects would go away. But what they couldn't promise, was if his memory would return as well. 

His memories gone, his life was a blank slate at the moment. He had no idea who he was, if he was a good person, or bad, or what he had been doing in the moments leading up to the accident. He didn't even know his name, for God's sake, nor did he even know if he believed in God in the first place. 

He had nothing. Not even one memory to hold onto, nor could the hospital's staff tell him anything. He had carried no identification, no money, no papers. No real personal effects aside from several rings that did nothing to spark a memory in him. He had nothing, and no one had been by to identify and claim him. 

It was as if he didn't exist in this world. But that couldn't possibly be true. Someone had to know him, he had to have friends and family that were worried about him....didn't he? That kernel of doubt made him worry, leaving him to feel very alone in this world. He dearly wanted to know his own story, wanted to know who he was, and just what had happened to shape him into the man he might turn out to be. And he especially wanted to know what had happened to his hand! 

He hadn't needed to be told that injury was an old one. That it had nothing to do with the accident that had landed him in the hospital. He could see from the scarring, that the stump where his hand should be, had healed over long ago. But he couldn't stop wondering, wanting to know why no one had bothered to do something about it. To fashion some kind of prosthetic to replace the hand he had lost. Even a nonfunctional one, would have been better than just leaving a stump for everyone to stare at! 

He sighed, and that depressed exhalation hurt, his cracked ribs protesting. His body practically one big bruise, with a series of cuts and scrapes, and his brain suffering swelling, he supposed things could have been worse. After all, he could have broken the one hand he still had, and then where would he be? 

He started laughing then, not so much amused as bitter over his pathetic circumstances. Never mind how he would take care of himself, how in the world was he going to pay for his treatments? What in the world was going to happen to him? 

"Care to let us in on the joke?" A woman's voice asked, and he assumed it was a nurse having come to investigate the noise he had been making. He shifted just enough to look towards the open doorway of his room, and saw not a nurse, but an attractive looking blonde standing there. Or at least she would be attractive, if she wasn't currently frowning at him, with something like disapproval or perhaps disappointment in her eyes. 

Behind the blonde woman, was two men. One he recognized as his doctor, a man named Whales who had been very careful to explain all the things that had been done to help him in his recovery. The other man, he didn't recognize at all, nor did he understand the hatred and animosity this man was displaying towards him. 

Such sheer hate aimed his way? It made him speak up, his laughter abruptly ended. "Do we know each other?" 

The man already so volatile with hate and anger, shifted, his steps forward stopped by the woman's arm blocking his way. 

"Get out of my way, Swan." The man all but snarled, his grip turning white knuckle on the expensive looking walking stick in his hands. 

"I agreed to let you be here for the questioning." The Swan woman said. "But only provided, you keep your distance from him." 

"I don't need to get close to him to kill him." The man said, a malevolent look twisting his expression. 

"You're not killing anyone in my jurisdiction." Swan snapped. 

"Um...." Chilled to the bone by the exchange he had just born witnessed to, he still managed to speak up. "Why would you want to kill me? Why would anyone want to?" 

"Shall I go down the list of your crimes and offenses against me?" The man growled. 

"I'd actually like to hear that list." The Swan woman murmured. She received her own hateful look from the man. It was clear he wasn't in the mood to share information with her. 

The patient in the hospital bed couldn't focus on whatever aggression existed between Swan and the angry man, more worried for himself than her. "Look..." He said. "I don't know what's going on, let alone understand it. But could somebody tell me something, anything about myself?" 

It was odd watching the three exchange a look. The Swan woman seemed to consider herself the mouthpiece of the group, making the decision to step forward and ask a most exasperating question. "Just what do you remember?" 

"That's just it, I don't." 

"He's lying!" The angry man said, and once again the woman had to bar him from rushing towards the bed. 

"I'll be the judge of that." She said. "You need to stay put, while I do this." 

"Do what?" He asked, but was ignored. 

"Fine." The angry man gritted out. "But be quick about it." 

"Quick about what?" He interrupted. "What's going on, and who are you people? And why does that man want to hurt me so badly?" 

"All right, I'll play." She said. "I'm Sheriff Swan. And he's Mr. Gold. He's a....a friend of the woman you shot." 

"I shot someone?" He was alarmed and dismayed, beginning to understand just where this man's hatred might come from. 

"You didn't just shoot her!" The man, Mr. Gold was growling. "You've taken everything from her, including her life!" 

"She's dead...?" He asked. Forget about dismayed, he was gut wrenching horrified at the thought he might have killed someone. 

"She might as well be, after what you've done to her!" Gold shouted. 

Now his mind really was reeling, making him imagine worst care scenarios. Everything from physical to sexual violence, the man feeling sick to his stomach. He barely registered Gold's words, too wrecked with guilt to be relieved his victim was supposedly still alive. 

"We will get Belle back." Swan was saying. 

"How?!" Gold demanded. "The curse is too powerful. It's become more than I ever intended it to be. Not even you could break it." 

"So you are just going to give up?" She demanded, a hand on her hip. "Give up on Belle without even trying to help her?" 

"I won't abandon her if that is what you mean." Gold's tone was stiff. "But sooner or later, we are all going to have to accept the fact that Belle will never return." 

"Well I am not ready to accept that, and neither should you! Not until we've exhausted all our resources." Swan said. 

Gold and Swan's conversation was just so much background noise in his head, the sick feeling remaining. His muddled thoughts left him panicked, the guilt eating at him, the man this close to screaming. Doctor Whale had noticed something was wrong, walking past the Sheriff to check on his patient. 

"Someone, anyone, tell me what I have done!" He shouted, his hand going to his head. Clutching, pulling at the bandages wrapped in place around it. The Doctor grabbed his wrist, preventing him from doing anything worse, shouting at him to calm down, that he would only aggravate his condition. 

But he couldn't calm down, his mind racing with possibilities. With a multitude of awful what ifs, each one worse than the one before. His head pounded with pain, his vision blurring. The Swan woman was shouting, Mr. Gold was smiling. But it wasn't a nice look for him, the smile twisted, evil. 

He didn't even feel the sudden stab of a needle pricking his arm, wasn't even aware that Doctor Whales had injected him with something. One moment he was screaming, in more pain than ever, his head threathening to split open. The next he was down on the bed, the headache gone, most of the people gone, and the noise in his head had quieted down. 

The Swan woman was straddling a chair to the left of him. Her chin rested in one hand's palm, the woman just staring at him. He had a feeling she had been doing that for quite a while, as if she had all the time in the world to waste on a criminal like him. He almost laughed then, making the connection. He WAS a criminal, and she was this town's sheriff. It was her job, her duty to see to him. To make sure he could never hurt anyone ever again. 

"How soon can you lock me up?" He asked, his voice sounding hoarse from his earlier screaming. Her brow drew together, the woman maintaining her stare. 

"Why would I do that?" She asked. 

"I'm a criminal." He said. "I shot and hurt some poor woman." 

"Well it's true you did shoot her." Swan agreed. "And I'm sure you had your reasons for that...." 

"Reasons?" He made a weak, scoffing sound. "That doesn't excuse what I've done." 

"No, it doesn't." Swan nodded. "So...are you finally going to tell me what the real deal between you and Rumplestiltskin is?" 

The name Rumplestiltskin was so unexpected, it jarred him out of his self horror. "What does a fairytale have to do with me?" 

She gave him a strange look. "Come now. It's just you and me, Hook. No need to pretend you don't know anything." She tried out a smile on him, as though that would coax out of him the words she wanted to hear. "If the reasons behind your vendetta is good enough, I'll even promise to protect you from Rumplestiltskin." 

"That's very...generous of you." He said, frowning. What had she called him? Hook? Was it his nickname, or just another fairytale allusion? "But I really don't know who this Rumplestiltskin is you speak of." 

She continued to stare at him, and then swore softly. "You really don't know, do you?" 

He nodded. "That's what I've been saying..." 

"You poor bastard." She breathed out. "I almost feel sorry for you." 

"Don't!" He protested with a grimace. "Not after what I've done." 

"Right now, your only crimes in my jurisdiction, is shooting a woman, and the abduction and torture of one Doctor Hopper." 

"This just gets better and better...." He muttered. "Why would I do these things in the first place?" 

"It's...it's complicated." She stammered. "The situation more than I feel you can deal with in the moment. And that's before we add in the blood feud between you and Rumplestiltskin." 

"Blood feud?" He asked, then frowned at another. "You mean someone actually is named Rumplestiltskin?" 

She shifted, clearly uncomfortable and unwilling to answer. But then another thing was registering, the man almost smiling. Almost. 

"You.....you DO know me." He stated, hope filling his eyes. 

"We've had a bit of history." She grudgingly allowed. "But that too is complicated." 

"Too complicated to talk about?" He sighed at her nod, but he wasn't deterred. "Please, Sheriff....I just want to know. Something, anything. About who I am, and where I came from." 

She was quiet a moment, seeming to consider his request. Brow furrowed from her frown, she let out her own sigh before speaking. "KIllian. Your name is Killian Jones." 

"Killian." He whispered, trying out the name. It wasn't the kind of name he would have picked out for himself. He wasn't even sure he liked the sound of it, but it was his. "Thank you Sheriff." 

"I suppose we haven't been properly introduced." 

"Not that I can remember." Killian saw that that almost coaxed a smile from the Sheriff. 

"I'm Sheriff Emma Swan." 

"And I'm.....well I guess I'm Killian Jones." He let out a weak chuckle. "Damn but it feels good to finally have a name...." He then fixed her with an expectant look. "So what's next?" 

"Next?" She arched a brow at him. "There's still some things I have to do. You weren't the only one injured tonight." 

"The woman." He said, guilt coloring his expression. "How is she....?" 

"Aside from the shoulder and arm injury you caused?" Her expression seemed to soften in response to the way Killian flinched. "She doesn't remember a thing." 

"She has no memory?" He whispered, shaken. "You mean......she's like me?" 

"I wouldn't say that." Swan murmured. "She's got a support system, friends, family, people who care about her. Where you...." 

"I have nothing..." He finished, stunned at that. "Why....why is that?" 

"You're a long way from home, Jones." She explained."Not that I saw much to tie you there." 

"You've been there....?" 

"I've been in the....area, yes." She confirmed. 

"Sheriff....just what is the nature of our association?" Killian asked. "Please don't say it's too complicated! I just want to know...what is our relationship to each other." 

"We don't have one." She said firmly. But her eyes were troubled. "I'd work on getting some rest, Jones. You've got a lot of trouble coming your way, the least of which is legal in nature." 

"That man.....Mr. Gold. He wanted to kill me...." 

"He still does." Swan pointed out. "I'm going to protect you, but you'd best keep your distance from that one." She remained sitting long enough to get his agreement, then started for the door. 

"Am I a bad person, Sheriff?" His question drew her to an abrupt halt. 

"I don't think I'm in a position to say." 

"That's frustrating to hear." He sighed, and started to close his eyes. He expected her to leave, so was surprised when she said more. 

"You've hurt quite a few people. But then you've been hurt yourself." A sigh, a hand going to her hair, fingers running over her scalp. "I just wish you had trusted me enough to be honest. Maybe then this whole situation could have been avoided." 

"Believe me when I say, I wish for that too." 

"Just get some rest Jones. From what Doctor Whales has told me, your rehabilitation is going to be a long process." This time she didn't let any further questions stop her, Swan walking out of his room. Killian would watch her every step of the way, having a feeling that once he would have enjoyed watching her leave if only for the way those jeans molded to her bottom's curves. 

But ogling women was far from the reason he watched her now, Killian instead frustrated to see the person who had the answers he so desperately needed, walk away without giving them over. He didn't understand, or rather believe that whatever truths she concealed from him, were too much for him to handle. Certainly Killian didn't think they would be enough to cause another head pounding episode. 

Unfortunately he really was in no condition to go after her. The only demands he could make, were for more pain medication. And those were demands that went mostly ignored.... 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued.....


	6. Six

It had been suggested, strongly, to Gold that he go take a walk. As if that walk would somehow cool down the anger inside him, restore to him a semblance of patience and clear thinking rational. But things weren't that simple, Gold feeling beyond calm, beyond reasoning, even beyond control. In a man that was used to an abundance of control over his surroundings, of the situation and people he dealt with daily, to now experience the lack of it, was simply intolerable. 

Control was everything to Gold. A necessity. He had spent too many years with it, making deals, manipulating events, guiding---sometimes pushing people down paths that were essential for his schemes. Always working towards his end game, striving to be reunited with his son. 

There had been few if any bumps along the way. Everything had always been planned, every eventuality foreseen and adjusted for. He had spun destinies as easy as silk, designating dreams, making heroes out of farmers, and villains out of queens. The people gathered essential ingredients to the curse he had been making. 

Everyone had been accounted for, every decision planned for. Everyone it seemed, save for Hook and Belle. Gold didn't like so much as thinking of them in the same thought, but the fact remained they had both been unexpected where his ultimate goal was concerned. Hook receiving a clear cut dismissal, Gold never intending to see the pirate again. 

His life with Belle had also been unintended. Even from the first day, the first encounter, Gold acting almost on impulse when he had demanded the beauty as his payment. Certainly he had never expected to come to care for her, to love her and be loved in return. That love had scared him, Gold fearing Belle for the weakness she could be. A weakness she had already become, Gold proving too easy to prey on where Belle and Regina's lies about her were concerned. 

Believing Belle dead and forever out of his reach, Gold had maintained his course. Fighting in the only way he could, manipulating the enchanted realm and it's inhabitants, in order to get back to his son. He mourned Belle all the while, and never once made adjustments. Why would he? She had been dead, taken out of the game, no longer able to affect things. 

He had been a fool to believe Regina. To trust so easily in the Evil Queen's lies. One of the single greatest joys in his life, had been the day a frightened, almost cowering Belle had entered into his shop. To see her again, to hold and speak with her, to know she was alive? It was a gift he claimed eagerly. As well as a gift he took for granted, Gold lying to Belle, but worse yet, not making adjustments to his plans. 

He had been stupid. Not recognizing how vulnerable Belle was. Thinking no one would dare harm her, Gold banking on much due to the sheer fear and respect his powers and reputation had grudgingly earned him. He should have known better, should have taken more care to protect his heart. Even after Hook and Cora had seemingly failed to travel to Storybrooke. But Gold had been overconfident, believing the only way home lost to them. How could he have known the very beans that had taken his son away, would have enough power left to open a portal one last time. 

Gold's grip tightened on his walking stick, his expression infuriated. As much as he wanted to lash out at Hook, it was himself that Gold really wanted to beat. For having grown compliant, for becoming too confidant, for simply not protecting Belle better. 

And now Belle had suffered for his arrogance. Her true self lost, perhaps destroyed for good, only her body and a stranger remaining behind. Her memories, her personality, whatever you wanted to call the spark that made a person who they were, gone. It wasn't Belle who looked at Gold with those confused blue eyes. Wasn't Belle who looked to him for protection, and it most definitely wasn't the woman that had loved him, that now grappled for answers. 

Instead she was the woman the curse would have her be. Some frightened, tormented girl who had been at Regina's mercies for far too many years. Her only connection to Gold, was the words, a promise that he would protect her. Gold wondered if she even believed that now, after she had been shot while in his care. 

The true Belle would have, refusing to give up on him, even upon hearing of his worst deeds. Truly, she had loved him, the only woman to ever give her heart completely to Gold. Not even his bitch of a wife, Mila, had been willing to do that. She had hated him, but Gold had never suspected just how much, even after the years of ridicule and scorn. Not until that fateful day on the pirate's ship, Mila screaming defiantly how she had never loved him. 

Gold hadn't needed much thought when it came to retaliation. He had ripped out Mila's heart, and he hadn't even hesitated to crush it. Had there been any other way to react, any other way to retaliate and not earn the pirate's hate? Or had Gold made the biggest mistake of his entire life, in allowing Hook to live? 

He should have killed him. If not then, then earlier today, on Hook's ship. It would have been all too easy to beat the pirate to death, costing him nothing but the love of a good woman. And yet he had still lost that woman, even after agreeing to her pleaded for mercy! What was the point of it all, if he couldn't keep Belle no matter the outcome? Why was he trying so hard to be good for just the memory of her? 

The memories simply weren't enough. Gold needed Belle with him. Needed to feel her warmth, see the love in her eyes, hear her reaffirm the beliefs she had in him. He needed, actually craved it and her. And Gold wasn't about to be content with just her body still being alive. 

Not even sure he was still sane, Gold had made a decision. He would do anything and everything to bring Belle back. No matter who in this town he had to sacrifice, what dark magics he had to work. He'd find a way, not caring that the curse was the most carefully crafted magic he or anyone else for that matter, had ever wrought in this realm or the one they had all come from. 

The walk Swan had insisted Gold take, hadn't exactly calmed him but it had help fill him with renewed purpose. He was no longer quite so erratic, stalking forward with a determined gait. His expression was still one that disturbed many, the people in the hospital wise to hurry out of Gold's way. They recognized trouble when they saw it, though they couldn't begin to guess just what he would attempt to do in his quest to get Belle back. 

His first true attempt, was the most obvious and simple to try, Gold entering into Belle's hospital room without so much as knocking. His expression towards her while not unpleasant, was of such single minded focus and intensity, that it made the woman nervous. She'd actually stammer out some words, some half formed question that was silenced by Gold's mouth catching at hers. 

His expensive walking stick fell to the floor, the cane making such a clatter. Gold had taken Belle into his arms, fingers of one hand sinking into her hair. Kissing her with that same focus and intensity, his mouth hard and uncompromising as he tried to get Belle to soften and yield to him. Willing the power of true love's kiss to come break even his curse and set Belle free. 

Her hands touched on his shoulders, the woman struggling, trying to shove him away. Disappointment filled him, Gold moving with Belle's push. Knowing true love's kiss was an instantaneous magic, and that it had failed. 

Blue eyes startled and more than a little wary, Belle stared at him. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she found her voice, and then she was snapping at him. 

"Just what are you doing?!" 

Gold stared at her a moment longer, before shifting away completely. He'd move to retrieve his expensive walking stick, using that time to clear his throat and compose himself. 

"Why did you kiss me?!" She demanded, now clutching at her bed sheets. 

"Forgive me." He said, his voice clear of the emotions he was feeling. "It was a moment of impulse...." 

"Impulse?!" She echoed, almost scoffing then. "And do you get these kind of impulses often?" 

There was so many ways he could have answered, and most if not all would only confuse her. He settled on the words almost never, once again offering an unfeeling apology. She was hardly ready to accept it, staring at him as though Gold was some kind of monster. It was close to the truth, Gold so much more uncaring and beast like without Belle to ground him in goodness. 

"You should rest." It was more order than observation, Gold moving to leave her room. Belle didn't quite grab for him, though she did manage to stop him with her voice. 

"That wasn't the first time you wanted to kiss me." Her pale face got just the slightest of color, Gold looking at her with polite interest. "Before at my bedside.....when you were talking about fairytales...." 

He wanted to snap then, to shout at her that it wasn't some made up story, but his life he had been telling her about. Talking about the only really good memories he had, the time he had spent with Belle as his prisoner. 

The struggle to remain calm must have shown on his face, Belle seeming to shiver in response. "Just what is our relationship?" 

The matching half to each other's heart was hardly an answer he could voice, Gold pretending indifference now. "There is NO relationship." 

Belle frowned in response, giving a slight shake of her head no. "That's not true. It can't possibly be...." 

Gold wanted to snap at her, to demand answers as to what the woman could possibly know as right or wrong in this. But he held his tongue,reminding himself that she, that Belle deserved better than a response fueled by his angers and disappointments. 

"I...I remember...." 

"What do you remember?" Gold asked, trying not to give in to the hope beginning to swell in his chest. A hope that was dashed almost immediately, Belle not speaking anything he truly wanted to hear! 

"That man from before...the one who came and got me from my cell. He specifically told me to find YOU. He assured me that you would protect me. Why?" She asked, holding Gold's gaze with her own troubled one. "Why would he think that? And why would you even bother?" 

"We have a common enemy." 

"Enemy..." She repeated with a whisper. "But it's more than that, isn't it? Because I remember....I remember how you acted when you first saw me. Like you had just seen a ghost. Or that you had been granted a miracle...." She shook her head again. "You don't just embrace a person, make vows of protection to a stranger. So....?" 

"So you want to know everything." Gold stated, and she nodded. 

"Please...." Belle all but begged. "There's so much I don't know...so much I must have forgotten. I don't even know myself, let alone you and the people around us." 

"Fine then...." Gold inched towards her. "I'll tell you what you need to know." 

"Thank you." She was full of gratitude, not realizing the catch in his words. That he would tell her only what he thought she needed, and not everything that she truly wanted. Nor could he guarantee she would like and accept what he would tell her, Gold sitting down in the chair situated next to her bed. 

Once again Belle would find herself the focus of his intense stare, his eyes dark, the emotions inside him unfathomable to looks alone. He'd grip the gold head of his cane with both his hands, his body going stiff with tension. The need to touch her was one he almost couldn't deny, Gold's grip such on the cane, that his strength nearly caused it to shatter. He didn't dare touch Belle, not trusting her reaction, not trusting HIS own. 

Belle shifted against the pillows, her fingers playing nervously with each other. She could barely meet his gaze, clearly bothered by how he looked at her. She would practically wilt in relief when Gold did begin speaking, but such an expression wouldn't last for very long. 

"You wanted to know just what our relationship is towards each other." Gold began, his voice clipped and precise, the man almost ruthless in the moment. "But before you can even begin to understand it, you have to know just WHO you are." 

A frown then, Belle making a questioning sound that was lost to Gold talking over her. "Whoever you think you are, whoever told you that name....it's all lies." 

"But...." 

Gold had little patience for protests, feeling truly beastly as he addressed her. "Your name is Belle. And you are the woman that I LOVE." 

Her mouth had dropped open in shock, her eyes lifting to his, searching for confirmation. Whatever she took from his gaze, it unsettled her, Belle shaking her head in denial. 

"No..." 

"Yes." Gold said plainly. "You were right to sense that we had a connection, a relationship between us. But I doubt you could have guessed just how close and intimate a one it truly is." 

"No...no...I don't believe it. I can't!" 

"And why not? Is it that unthinkable, do you find me that unlovable?" A frowning Gold asked. 

"I don't even KNOW you!" She snapped back. 

"But you did..." Gold said, his voice almost ominous. "And someday, you will again." 

He truly hadn't meant it to come out sounding like a threat, but the fact was it had, and Belle reacted to it as one all the same. Shaking, skin growing pale, the girl shifting to the far side of the bed. Gold forced himself to remain seated, to not do anything that could further agitate the woman. 

"Belle..." 

"MY name is NOT Belle!" She snapped almost viciously. "I am not the woman that you clearly have mistaken me to be!" 

"It is you who are mistaken." Gold insisted. "You are her, and your name is Belle." 

"I may be confused about a lot of things." She said, her pretty eyes so angry in the moment. "But I think I'd know my own name!" 

"And just what do you remember?" Gold demanded in turn. "What possible memories do you have, that are worth clinging to, believing in rather than accepting the truth as I have told you?" 

"I..." Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, Belle trying to think. Gold didn't wait for her to make a decision, speaking once more. 

"None." 

"It's just that I've been imprisoned for so long. Kept in that dark room for as far back as I can remember....but..." Her voice wavered, Belle not as certain as she was trying to pretend to be. "I'm sure that within time, more memories will come....that I will be able to recall a time before that room...." 

"I hope you do regain those memories." Gold was sincere enough that it surprised her. "Because then you will remember me, US." 

"There is no us!" She protested. "A lot of things may have been done to me, but I wouldn't forget something so important as the man that I loved!" 

He couldn't stop that inward flinch her denial caused within him, couldn't stop the grief from filling his gaze, nor control the surge of impatience and anger spiking through him. Gold's grip on the walking stick became like steel, the color bleeding out of his knuckles as he fought to control himself. To keep from screaming at Belle, and to keep from stalking out of the room on the impulse to hunt Hook down and kill him, Emma Swan be damned. 

"Memories are a funny thing." Gold said at last, his face showing the strain he was under as he fought against his darker impulses. "So fragile and easily misled. And all it takes is a tap on the head, or one volt too high." 

She seemed to freeze in place at that, Gold wondering to just what extent Regina had tortured the girl. Just imagining Belle perhaps undergoing shock treatment, was enough to get Gold hungering for revenge all over again, the man thinking perhaps it was time to renew his attempts at retaliation. 

"If..." Her voice sounded so quiet, so uncertain, Belle seeming to withdraw into herself. "If we really were...had that kind of relationship....what can you tell me." Another bite of her lip, Belle not quite looking at him. "How did we meet? When did we fall in love? What were our plans for the future?" 

Gold hesitation made Belle frown, but what was he to tell her!? How could he explain the truth of their circumstances, of how they had met, how she had been his prisoner and slave? That despite all possible odds, they had fallen in love, only for him to ruin things with his cowardice? Could she even suspend her disbelief to believe that not only he, but her and the entire town, came from another world? A world that was made on magic and the fantastic, and that somehow, their very lives had become nothing but stories for the inhabitants that dwelt in this world? 

He couldn't. Not yet. Not without preparing her. Not without running the risk of delivering a shock so great she might not be able to recover. Gold felt he had no choice but to lie to her, and placate her with deflections. 

"It's....complicated." Even his tone was uncomfortable, Gold shifting in his seat. 

"Complicated? How can love be complicated?" 

He almost snorted then, thinking the woman Belle had become, was woefully naive. Perhaps more so than the original! 

"Belle...I have found in my many years, and dealings with people, that love is anything but easy. That problems and complications can and do exist, making the road to happiness anything but smooth." 

She continued to frown. "I can accept that...but I still don't understand why you can't tell me anything!" 

"It's late." He said instead, which only caused her to make a frustrated sound. "You really need to get your rest." He was already rising, noting how Belle made sure to stay on the other side of the bed, far away from him. "And so do I for that matter." 

What was one more lie, no matter how small and harmless? For Gold, even if he had been tired, wouldn't have gone to sleep. Not when he was intent on searching for a way to restore Belle to her true self as quickly and as safely as possible. He was willing to turn his shop, and his home upside down, search out every stray bit of magic, read every single book he had ever collected on the topic. Even as Gold knew his resources were limited when it came to the breaking of such a powerful curse. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued.......


	7. Seven

Long after Mr. Gold had left, Marjorie still remained up, sitting huddled against the head board of her bed. She clutched a pillow against her, the one arm that hadn't been injured holding it steady against her chest. Hugging it like it was a shield that could protect her from everything that had been happening, that continued to happen. Marjorie couldn't shake free of her unease, a slight tremble moving through her as she tried to process all that she had been told. 

It wasn't much. Or rather, it wasn't enough, Marjorie desperate for more. Wanting answers, and wanting them now, not content to trust in anyone's decisions, let alone Mr. Gold's, when it came to what she should and shouldn't know. Not that she felt particularly trusting of Mr. Gold in the moment. Not after he had barged into her room, and laid a downright possessive kiss on her. 

Marjorie didn't know what Gold had been expecting from such an act. Couldn't begin to guess what had been in his head, to do such a thing. She certainly didn't buy it had been mere impulse, not when Gold had stalked towards her with such determination and purpose. Such feelings had given away to a bitter disappointment, Marjorie not reacting in the manner he had expected. 

It almost made her think there might be truth to his other claims. That she really had been the woman that Gold loved, a woman who would have known how to react to receiving such a kiss from him. But Marjorie wasn't, and she had no other experience when it came to affection. Neither the expressing of it, nor the receiving of it. 

At least, she didn't think so. But her memories only seemed to want to recall the endless waiting inside that room, an eternity of darkness and drugs, of being ignored, forgotten and clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to escape. Marjorie couldn't remember anything beyond that, couldn't even recall the love of a parent. Let alone the feelings of a supposed lover! 

Her memory wasn't in the best condition, and certainly unreliable under the least trying of circumstances. But Marjorie was sure if she had a lover, someone who truly cared for her, she would have clung to their remembered warmth, to the love and affection they would have expressed to her. She would have wrapped herself in that love, and used the memory of it to better endure her time in the darkness. 

But she hadn't, the love not there, the people who should have cared for her, seeming not to exist. Marjorie didn't want to believe she could have forgotten them, or what it would mean for her, for Mr. Gold, for THEM if she really had. The simple fact that Gold's revelations, those little tidbits of info, if real, had the power to prove her memories, her mind, really was damaged. 

Marjorie had never really believed that she had deserved to be locked up. She hadn't been a danger to herself or to others, and though her captors had tried their worst, her mind had remained intact. Marjorie had NEVER been crazy, she was sure of it. At best, she had been confused, and that had more to do with the drugs and terrible treatments she had endured. 

But why couldn't she remember a time before that room? Just how long had she been locked up, that she had forgotten everything, even simple things like what the sound of a person's joy was like? Why had she been locked up in the first place, who had made that decision? Why hadn't someone come to get her, to rescue her sooner? And who had been that man who had eventually set her free, the one who had disappeared after urging her to find a Mr. Gold. To find Gold and have him protect her. 

Desperate for an anchor in a world that was spinning around her, Marjorie had done just that. Frightened of everything and everyone, fearing that at any moment, she would be sent back to that room before finding her protector. Even Mr. Gold had seemed scary, intimidating at first. Until he had actually looked at her, and reacted with warmth, surprise and recognition in his eyes. It was that look, the tearful joy and gratitude he had expressed, that had Marjorie believing they did know each other. She wasn't anywhere ready to believe the thing about her being the woman that he loved, or that her name was something other than Marjorie. And she'd continue to have those disbeliefs, until someone, Gold or otherwise, gave her more to go on! 

Marjorie wouldn't even try to do as Gold advised. She couldn't! Not with her mind racing, the woman craving answers. Somehow, she didn't believe Gold would be forthcoming with them, not after the way he had evaded her earlier questions. Marjorie didn't understand why he couldn't just answer, especially such a simple question as how they had first met. It made her sure he was hiding something, maybe even lying about the nature of their relationship. Which meant she couldn't exactly trust him or the information he did feed her. 

But, and this was most troubling, Marjorie really didn't have many if any she could turn to. Everyone was a stranger to her. With their own hidden agendas and motives, Marjorie wondering who if any she could trust. The answer didn't come immediately, but when it did, Marjorie became determined to find that person. To seek out the sheriff, Ms. Emma Swan, and get the much needed answers from her. 

It was more than just her badge that made Emma Swan seemed like a smart and safe choice. And it was more than Marjorie's instincts and hopes making her believe she could trust the sheriff. It had more to do with the way the sheriff and Mr. Gold had interacted with each other, the two barely seeming able to tolerate one another. That and Swan's earnest pledge to do her best to help Marjorie, made her almost positive that the sheriff wouldn't lead her wrong. That Ms. Swan wouldn't fall into line with whatever Gold decided, that maybe just maybe, Emma Swan didn't have an agenda where Marjorie was concerned. 

Of course Marjorie could be fooling herself about Emma Swan. It could just be that she wanted, needed, to believe in someone. But regardless, Marjorie had made up her mind, putting aside the pillow, and getting off the bed. There was a blue, terry cloth robe hanging near the door. She'd struggle into it as best she could, her one arm all but useless, it's range of movements limited, and full of sharp pain. 

There seemed to be no one to stop her, the corridor not empty, but neither was it crowded with people. Those few people, a mix of hospital staff, and visitors, paid little mind to Marjorie. She relaxed by doses, going from her uncertain, almost cowering walk forward, to a infinitely more confidant stride. She wasn't sure where she was going, wasn't sure where or if she could find the sheriff in this place. But to remain in her room seemed intolerable, Marjorie just as determined in focus as Gold had been when he had kissed her. 

She would get her first pay off, after a few twists and turns, Marjorie ending up several corridors away from the room she had been given. Sheriff Emma Swan would just be exiting a room, the woman's brow furrowed, showing she was lost in thought. Marjorie would instantly veer towards her, feeling a mix of different emotions, excitement and fear the chief among them. 

The sheriff didn't notice her immediately, not until Marjorie was almost upon her. Then the blonde haired woman would do a double take, looking almost dismayed to see her. 

"Sheriff Swan..." Marjorie began, not failing to notice the quick way Emma looked back into the room. Marjorie couldn't help but follow the woman's gaze, spying the figure of a man laying in a bed. She didn't get to make out a lot of details about him, aside from the fact that he had a lot of bandages wrapped about his head. Then Emma Swan was taking hold of Marjorie's good arm, none too subtly guiding her away from the room. 

"You shouldn't be out of bed." Swan said, walking faster than should have been necessary. "You shouldn't be here either." 

"Either?" Marjorie echoed, frowning. 

"Mr. Gold will be very upset." Swan stated. "Especially if he knew you were wandering the halls, so close to..." An abrupt silence, the sheriff pressing her lips together to keep from blurting anything more out. She needn't have bothered, Marjorie's suspicions roused, the woman stating rather than asking. 

"That's him, isn't it?" She tried to draw to a halt, and almost stumbled when Swan did not. Marjorie let out a little pained sound, Swan seeming to flinch in guilt. "That man in that room, he's the one who shot me." 

She would have been woefully disappointed if Swan had tried to deny it. Instead the woman sighed, a deep breath escaping her before she reluctantly nodded.

 

"I want to see him." Marjorie decided. "I want to look the man who shot me in the eyes." She was already trying to extract her arm from Swan's grip, but the Sheriff simply held on tighter. 

"Hey now!" She protested. "I can't let you do that." 

"Why ever not?" frowned Marjorie. "Is it not within my rights to see the one who attacked me?" 

"It's a bit more complicated than that...." 

"Complicated!" Marjorie bit out that word furiously. How she was growing to hate that word. "I am sick of everyone telling me that!" 

"You're not the only one..." She thought Swan muttered under her breath. "Look, I'm having enough of a hard time keeping Mr. Gold from killing that man and that's before he finds out you came anywhere near Jones." 

Jones. Marjorie filed that name away, but even then she could tell the name wasn't familiar to her. It certainly didn't rouse any memories, and that was disappointing to put it mildly. 

"Mr. Gold does not need to know. Unless..." She turned anxious then, Marjorie studying Emma Swan's eyes. "You intend to tell him?" 

"Me? Don't be ridiculous. My job is already hard enough without my adding to it's difficulties." Emma Swan said shaking her head no. "But in a hospital this big, someone is bound to talk." 

"I suppose you're right." She was reluctant, but allowed the Sheriff to lead her a few feet further from the room. 

"Why are you up and about on your own anyway?" The Sheriff asked, stopping by a couple of seats. "Where is Mr. Gold?" 

"He went home for the night." Marjorie saw that surprised Swan. "He was tired...." She could see that Swan didn't believe in Gold's tiredness anymore than Marjorie had. "As for me, I went looking for you." 

"For me? Do you remember something?" 

"No. And that is precisely why I needed to talk to you!" Marjorie allowed herself to sit, staring imploringly at the Sheriff. Swan would look uncomfortable to be the focus of such a look, not quite fidgeting in place as she sat besides Marjorie. 

"I don't know why you would think I could help you with that." Swan began. "I'm not exactly a doctor, or an expert on memory loss." 

"I don't expect you to be." Marjorie assured her. "But I feel like I can trust you." Another imploring look, Marjorie searching to see if Swan flinched at that. "I can, can't I?" she breathed out, pleased. 

"I'm the Sheriff of this town. It's my job to help those in need. So yes, you can trust me." 

"Then tell me about myself!" Marjorie said excitedly. "Tell me all you know, not just about me, but about Mr. Gold. About my relationship to him." 

"I'm afraid I won't be as much help as you seem to hope." Warned the Sheriff. "And it's not because I don't want to, but simply because I don't know." 

"Don't know?" Marjorie frowned, trying to fight her disappointment. "How can you not know?! You're this town's sheriff....and Mr. Gold seems an important man." 

"It's complicated..." She held up her hand, as though to stave off any of Marjorie's complaints. "I know you don't like to hear that word, but it's the unfortunate truth. I've only been in this town for little over a year, and I've been acting Sheriff for even less. I simply haven't had the time to get to know EVERYONE, let alone all of Mr. Gold's secrets." 

"Ah but he does have them, doesn't he?" Marjorie said knowingly. 

"I'd bet money on it." Swan was deadly serious. "Unfortunately I've had little time to devote to investigating him, and that was BEFORE I was...called out of state." She sighed then. "I'm afraid much of the time after you were freed from your captivity, I wasn't here...." 

Marjorie was confused, frowning as she spoke. "What are you talking about? It's hasn't been that long at all...I mean there are inconsistent gaps in my memory, but I can say with the utmost confidence I haven't been out of that awful place for even a full two days." 

She was unprepared for the sympathetic look the Sheriff gave her, the woman covering her hand with her own. "I'm sorry Marjorie. It's been longer then that. You've been with Mr. Gold for the two months I have been gone." 

Aghast, Marjorie leapt to her feet, throwing off Swan's attempt at comfort. "That can't possibly be true! How can it be...I would remember...I WOULD remember." 

Still that sympathetic look remained, Emma Swan shrugging. "It's been my understanding that you have...been under a lot of stress lately. Complicate it with the shock and trauma of being shot..." 

"But to lose two whole months..." moaned Marjorie, swaying unsteadily on her feet. Swan immediately stood and took hold of her arm, her other hand on Marjorie's back. Supporting her as the sheriff lowered them both down to the seats. 

"I'm sure in time, your memory will come back." Swan tried to sound positive, but Marjorie heard a note of doubt in her voice. "Until then..." 

"Until then what...?" Marjorie demanded. "Go and believe what Mr. Gold says?!" 

"I'm not sure that would be entirely wise." muttered Swan. Marjorie flashed her a questioning look, and the sheriff coughed, almost nervous seeming. "I mean, it wouldn't be wise to put your trust so completely in any one person's hands." 

"Let alone Mr. Golds..." noted Marjorie, and again Emma Swan gave a shrug of her shoulders. 

"He IS concerned for you." Swan began. "And from what I've seen, he does care for you. More than he does anyone else in this town, that's for sure." 

"But why?" Marjorie demanded. "What am I to him to inspire such caring?! Am I really the woman that he loved? And does that mean I loved him too?" 

"I really don't have the answer to that. But..I suppose if you stayed with him, you must have had SOME feelings for him." It was a reluctant admittance from the Sheriff. 

"I suppose..." Marjorie said, but she was conflicted on that point. "What...what kind of man is Mr. Gold?" 

"Ah.....now THAT is a tough one." Swan sighed. "He is pretty ruthless, almost always gets what he wants. I wouldn't say he has many friends, more grudgingly acquaintances who owe him something." 

"From what little I have seen...it seems people are scared of him." 

"That sounds about right. He's owed many favors, seems to know where all the dirt is buried. And he owns at least half of this town. Everyone KNOWS Mr. Gold." 

"Everyone but me, it seems...." Marjorie murmured, unable to keep her sadness out of her voice. 

"You can't give up hoping your memories will come back!" Swan said emphatically. "You can't give up on yourself..." 

"I won't." Marjorie gave her a weak smile. "I didn't after all those years in that prison. I won't now either..." 

"What do you remember of that place?" Swan asked, and Marjorie could tell it was more than a simply curiosity. She was fishing for answers in her capacity as this town's sheriff, wanting to pick Marjorie's mind for any clues that might help her out. 

"My...room was always dark, no windows to let in light. I didn't often see people, except for when it came time for my meals to be delivered. Meals I might add, that were often drugged." Marjorie made a frustrated sound. "I didn't often eat because of that....and I fear the times I did succumb, are the reason why my memories are so messed up." 

"But I do remember one thing clearly. The man who came to free me. The man who took me out of that place and told me to find Mr. Gold. He knew me or at least enough about me to know Mr. Gold would protect me..." She let out a broken sound, a bitter chuckle. "I can't even say for certain that protection is worth anything. Not after being shot...." 

"Being shot would make it hard to trust, let alone trust someone like Mr. Gold." Swan pointed out. 

Marjorie made a sound of agreement. "I wonder if she would have trusted him." 

"She who?" Swan looked confused. 

"The woman that he loved. That Belle girl." 

Swan's expression turned to one of amazement, which Marjorie found to be completely interesting. "He told you about Belle?" 

"He told me I AM Belle." 

"He didn't happen to say anything else did he?" The Sheriff asked. 

"Such as?" 

"Like why Jones would want to hurt Gold so badly, as to shoot someone he cared about." Now it was Marjorie's turn to be amazed, the woman almost stunned as she breathed out a question. 

"This Jones fellow....he shot me because he was after Mr. Gold?" 

"Yes, but I don't know why!" Swan was visibly frustrated, running a hand through her loose blond hair. "Gold refuses to talk, and Jones can't. Not with his condition." 

"Condition...I believe I heard Doctor Whales speak about that." 

"Among his many injuries, Jones suffered quite the blow to the head. The trauma is such that his memory is lost...the doctors don't even know for certain, if the memories will be restored once the trauma has had time to heal." 

Marjorie processed this. "He must be terribly frightened, to not know who he is, or why he has done what he had attempted to do." 

"I'm more worried about what Mr. Gold will do to him, if given half a chance." Swan said, giving Marjorie a meaningful look. "Which is why you need to go back to your room, and stay far away from Jones." 

"I...I guess you're right." 

"Of course I am." Swan insisted, but she was smiling. "Now come, I'll walk you back to your room." 

"All right." Marjorie nodded, then paused. "You mentioned multiple injuries. What exactly happened to the man?" 

"Besides a car crashing into him?" Swan asked. "Someone tried to beat him to death hours earlier." 

"How terrible." Marjorie shivered. "Do you know who?" 

"I have my suspicions as to who the perpetrator was, though I've yet to ascertain the motive as to why he would feel the need." Swan sighed. "There's far too many secrets where this vendetta is concerned." 

"Vendetta? Does that mean you suspect Mr. Gold as the one to have done the beating?" Marjorie nearly jumped in fright, when the p.a. system came on, a man's voice paging the sheriff to come immediately to speak with Doctor Whales. 

"Damn..." Swan frowned. "What now...." 

"Sheriff....?" 

"I have to answer this." Swan said, as the p.a. announcement repeated the page. "It could be about the other patient." 

"Other patient?" Marjorie really felt lost now. 

"The one who had been driving the car who hit Jones." Swan said absentmindedly. "The stranger..." 

"Are strangers that unusual?" 

"They are in this town." Swan answered cryptically. "Come, let me walk you back to your room." 

"No need." Marjorie demurred, avoiding Swan's reaching hand. "If this is urgent, then you need to see the doctor as soon as possible. I will walk myself back." 

Swan hesitated, looking in Marjorie's eyes. "Can I trust you to do that?" 

"Of course!" Marjorie said, appearing affronted to even be asked such a question. "You can count on my to return to my room. I would not lie about this." 

"All right, I believe you." Swan said. "I'll check in with you soon, okay?" 

"Yes, now go." Marjorie said, making a shooing motion with her good hand. Swan would turn, and disappear down another corridor, Marjorie watching her every step of the way. She'd then count another two minutes in her mind, before she made a determined veer back towards the patient Jones' room. She felt only the slightest guilt when crossing the threshold, knowing that technically she had never promised to NOT make a stop first before returning to her room. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	8. Eight

The door eased shut behind her, Marjorie taking care to make sure it didn't lock. She wanted privacy, but not at the expense of her safety, Marjorie shooting a wary glance towards the patient in the bed. At the man who had shot her, his heavily bandaged head laying down on a pillow. He didn't stir at the sound of her footsteps, and that nearly made her frown. Marjorie simply hadn't been expecting him to be asleep for this encounter, and yet she was too nervous to try and wake him. Frightened, but not so much of him as of the idea that she would still remember nothing once she got her first good look at his face. Nothing at least, of the last two months she had supposedly spent free. 

Marjorie knew she would never forget the time of her captivity, a seemingly eternity spent in the darkness. Even if it all blurred together, one endless circle of torments, Marjorie would always remember the despair she had felt. The helplessness, the isolation, and her own bold determination to never give up hope on believing that one day she'd get free. 

Just as Marjorie had believed in that, she had to maintain the same hope for her memories, for her mind and her sanity. Had to believe that one day her mind wouldn't be so muddled, that she wouldn't be confused about nearly everything. But that day wasn't here, and as she came within touching distance of the bed, Marjorie saw that the man was not familiar. 

Disappointment sighed out of her, Marjorie studying the sleeping man. Noting the hurt features of his face, the many bruises there, and the cut over his eye that disappeared halfway under the bandages wrapped around his forehead. Those bandages wrapped around to the back, and even the top of his head, but Marjorie couldn't begin to guess what sort of injury required them. 

Nor could she see what little hair he had left, though she could guess at the color based on the lip hair and chin stubble that still remained. His mouth looked relatively untouched, so different from the rest of him. She could see the cuts on the bare length of his arms, even see the set of fresh stitches on his right one. Her eyes traveled to the left, noting the iv line that was tapped into a vein in his arm, and then her mouth fell open in shock. He didn't have a left hand! 

It was shocking and it was unexpected, Marjorie feeling as though someone should have warned her, then wondered why. She couldn't stop staring at it, spying the long healed scars of where the skin of his stump had mended together. Something like pity filled her, which wasn't something she had expected to feel for the man who had attacked her. And yet Marjorie couldn't help but think how horrible it had to be, to be missing a hand. 

Unconsciously, she rubbed her own wrist, still staring at the man's stump. Various machines beeped, the equipment monitoring the man's vitals. She wondered what else was wrong with him, just how severe his injuries were. But mostly she wondered just what the reason was, that Gold might have been driven to beat this man. And if that beating had been what ultimately led to her being shot. 

Emma Swan had mentioned a vendetta. Marjorie had latched onto the word, wondering just what was the source of the bad blood between these two men, and if she herself, had really been caught up between them. Troubled, she sighed and then looked back to the man's face. He had really pretty lashes for a man, dark and thick against his cheeks. They'd flutter, and then lift, his eyes opening to reveal a blazing blue. 

Marjorie froze in place, staring transfixed at the man. He hadn't shaken off the remnants of his sleep, but he had looked at her and smiled. That smile seemed to transform his face, Marjorie becoming aware of a beauty that hadn't been first apparent amidst the bruising. He'd be downright handsome once his face healed of all it's injuries, and yet even now, that smile, tender and matching the warmth in his eyes made color spring to her cheeks. 

She'd blush even harder when he spoke, the man calling her beautiful. He hadn't shaken off the sleep completely, totally relaxed in his bed as he smiled at her. 

"Ah! An Angel! The most beautiful one ever!" He cried out. "Come to relieve me of my pain at last?" 

She slowly blinked her eyes, noting how he was looking at her expectantly. What did he want, who did he think she was? 

"Erm...I'm sorry?" 

He didn't immediately lose his smile, studying her. He grew more alert when he took note of her terry cloth robe, and noticed her bare legs and feet sticking out from beneath the robe's hem. 

"Ah forgive me." He said with a sigh. "I thought you were an angel." He then muttered under his breath. "Or at the very least a nurse....." 

"Sorry, I am neither one." He said nothing to that, seeming content to settle back into sleep. Marjorie tilted her head to the side, considering him and what was probably a dismissal. But she wasn't willing to leave just yet, to have him outright ignore her when she was intent on getting answers. "Do you always turn on the charm when nurses are near?" 

"If it'll get me the pain relievers I want." He said, without opening his eyes. 

Marjorie really had no idea what to say to that, the things springing to mind either too obvious, or too stupid to state. So instead she pushed aside this odd moment she had experienced with him, and got right down to the business at hand. 

"Why.....?" She hesitated. It was really quite disconcerting to have a conversation with someone who was half asleep. Someone who wasn't even looking at her, and who could start snoring at any minute. 

"Why what?" He asked, still not opening his eyes. 

"Why did you shoot me!?" She exclaimed, and was with some satisfaction that she watched his eyes snap open, the man then wincing as he tried to sit up just a little faster than his injuries would allow. 

"You're her." He said when he had recovered. "You're the woman that I shot." 

"I think I already established that part!" She was more than a little peevish, and definitely ready for them to be further along in the questioning. 

He would blink slowly, repeatedly. As though visibly taken aback by the tone she had used with him, the impatience she had shown, and even the annoyance. But he wouldn't respond in a similar manner, his own expression frank. 

In a perfectly reasonable tone, he would explain. "Considering the situation and my confusion, I think it bore repeating." He was openly staring at her, his expression such that it showed he didn't know what to make of Marjorie. 

It was fine, she didn't know what to make of him either. And the situation was unreal, both of them hurt, actually suffering different degrees of memory loss. "I suppose I'm the last person you expected to see right about now." 

He started to nod, then thought better of it, wincing as he settled himself against the pillows. Not so much laying down, but more sitting propped up against them. 

"I wasn't expecting to have ANY visitors." He admitted. "Especially not from the woman I had attacked." He arched an eyebrow in question. "Just WHY are you here?" 

"I...I wanted to see. To see if the sight of you would somehow help jar my memory." 

"And did it?" he asked. 

Marjorie could only shrug, her frustration apparent. "I'm no closer to understanding what happened or why...." 

"That makes two of us." He murmured. 

"You don't remember anything?" She needed to hear it from him, see the confirmation on his lips. "Even after seeing me? Even after looking me in the eyes, you still have no idea why you would be driven to shoot me?" 

"No, nothing." She felt like deflating at his admission, barely noticing the guilt that colored his eyes. "For what it's worth....I AM sorry for shooting you." 

"How can you be sorry for something you don't even remember doing?!" She asked, truly puzzled. 

"I feel bad if anyone would get hurt, let alone if they got hurt because of my actions." He told her. 

Marjorie was quiet, mulling over his response. 

"Were you hurt very badly?" He asked, breaking the silence. "By the shooting?" 

"My arm..." She murmured, gesturing at it with her good hand. His gaze briefly flicked in it's direction, his guilty sorrowful look increasing. 

"I truly am sorry." He repeated. "I don't know WHY I would do such a thing, or what kind of man I was to want to hurt an innocent lady such as yourself." 

"Those are questions I would like the answer to as well." Marjorie admitted. "But no one is talking. At least, no one who knows anything...." She frowned. "Because it's complicated...." She was shocked by his groan, Marjorie turning anxious, wondering if something was going wrong inside him. "Are you okay?" 

"I really, really hate that word." He finally ground out. "Really hate how everyone is hiding behind it, using it to keep me, you, in the dark." 

She hadn't recovered from her shock, Marjorie still wide eyed in response to the way he had groaned. "I'm sure they have their reasons." 

"You don't sound like you really believe that." He pointed out. 

She could only shrug, hardly ready to defend such a choice. "Surely in time, they will feel ready to share with us the truth." 

"They should share it with us now." He grumbled in complaint. "It's torture not to understand. At least for me it is." 

"Oh for me as well!" She nodded emphatically. "I don't think the Sheriff and Mr. Gold truly understand just how aggravating it is, to not know what is going on, why this is happening, and what caused the situation in the first place." 

"The Sheriff at least seems sympathetic." The man murmured. "But it is still as you say, aggravating not to know all these things, not to even know yourself, or what your life, what YOU were like before waking up in this hospital." 

"It's scary..." Marjorie admitted. 

"Maddening." He added. 

"Frustrating." They said together, almost smiling at each other. They held each other's gaze a moment longer, seeming to revel in the shared circumstances of their memory loss. It was almost nice thought Marjorie, to have someone in a situation similar to hers. Someone who understood and shared her feelings, who was frustrated by the gaps in their memory and the lack of answers received.

She lifted her hand, brushing fingers at her moist eyes. She hadn't expected to cry, and Marjorie wondered if she was feeling overly emotional from all that had happened to her. Even those bits she couldn't remember. 

"I'm sorry..." She began, with a hiccup of sound. "I don't mean to come here and cry at your bedside." 

He had shifted, as though uncomfortable with her tears. He looked about, and it was only then that he realized that they were alone together, and that the room's door was shut. 

"Please tell me there is someone outside the room." He said, not looking at her. "Sheriff Swan preferably." When she didn't answer quick enough, he turned back to her, almost snapping with anger. "Please tell me you weren't crazy enough to come visit your attacker all on your own?" 

She would have been embarrassed, if not for the choice of wording he had used. Instead the word crazy put her on the defensive, Marjorie easily mustering up her own anger, as she slapped down her good hand on the foot of his bed. "I am not crazy!" She spat venomously, visibly shaking as she glared at him. 

Marjorie didn't give him a chance to answer, to lie or to placate her about the supposed state of her mind. She was too upset for that, almost out of control as she backed away from his bed, this close to ranting. 

"I am not!" She insisted, even as he attempted to speak. "I may be confused, and I may not know everything that has happened, but I know I never deserved to be locked up in that place! To be treated that way! I was not crazy, I still am not! And no matter what anyone tries to do to me, I will NEVER be crazy." 

She was openly crying now, but the tears were angry. The man was holding up his hand in some kind of placating gesture, trying to speak words to calm her. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." He was saying. "You're NOT crazy, I didn't mean it that way. I just..." 

"You just what?!" She demanded, her breath hitching in her throat. 

"I was just questioning if it was smart, not to mention safe, to be here alone with me." Marjorie didn't quite calm down, but the words got through to her. He hadn't been thinking she was insane, or that she needed to be locked up because of her mental state. He was just questioning if her judgement had been that poor, to risk coming alone to visit the man who HAD shot her! 

Almost embarrassed now, she backed further away from the bed. "I didn't lock the door." It was said almost defensively. "And you're in no condition to stop me should I try to make a run for it." 

"That's true enough." He grimaced, gesturing with his right hand at himself. Even if he had been in better condition, he would have risked tearing free of the wires and equipment monitoring his vitals before he could make a lunge for her. That sort of impulsive action would have set off the machines alarms, nurses and orderlies running into the room to see what had happened. There was no way he could have hurt anyone, not without witnesses running interference. 

"So you can see why I feel safe enough to have risked it." Marjorie finished. 

"Yeah, I do." He seemed tired then, as though her little outburst and his, had taken the last of his energy. "But I really think you should go back to your room now. It's not as if you'll find any answers here...." 

"I...I suppose not." She agreed. 

"I am sorry." He added. "For all of it. For shooting you, for upsetting you, for the people who hurt you..." 

Marjorie could sense an undercurrent of curiosity in him, but he didn't ask for more to her story. She warmed with appreciation at that, liking that he would not pressure her for an explanation just to satisfy his own curiosity. 

"I'm sorry too." She said out loud. "I really don't know what could have happened, to drive the you that you have forgotten, to drive him to attack me. But I'm sorry that you've been hurt..." 

"I think you're about the only one." 

An unwanted pang of sympathy filled her, Marjorie shaking her head as if that could free her of it. "I'm sure you have someone...several someones who would not wish to see you in this condition." 

"One would think that a given..." His voice was a hoarse whisper, Marjorie having to force herself to stay still rather than go closer to the bed. "But the Sheriff assures me I have no one." 

"No one?" Marjorie was surprised, more sympathy going through her. 

His gaze lowered, the man not looking at her. "I'm not from around here. And apparently from what the sheriff does know, I have nothing. Not even family to tie me to any place." 

"Oh...." She feared she was going to cry again, finding it too sad and overwhelming to imagine not having anyone. To not even remember that you were all alone. And just as sad was the thought that she was all too similar to him, Marjorie remembering no one, having no one but the Sheriff and Mr. Gold to insist she did have a life free from that darkened room. But being told it was different from remembering it, and Marjorie realized she felt just as much alone as she did confused and scared. 

Her heart went out to the man in the bed, Marjorie wondering which one of them was worse off. Mr. Gold wasn't exactly proving to be a comforting presence, but at least he was someone to cling to, where as this man didn't even have that much. 

"I'm Marjorie." She decided, introducing herself. His gaze lifted up, the surprise in his eyes. "I don't know what the future holds for either of us....but..." 

"You can't possibly be about to suggest we be friends!" He protested. 

"I'm not sure what I'm suggesting to be honest." Marjorie admitted. "But we're connected. Not just from the shooting, but from the fact we both suffer such crippling gaps in our memory." She came closer to the bed, holding her hand out to him. "So...at the very least, we should agree to get along with each other." 

"I think your Mr. Gold would object to that." 

"He's NOT mine!" She protested. "He might have belong to Belle, but to me, to Marjorie, he is still a stranger..." 

"Belle?" He echoed. "I think I've heard that name." 

"Apparently that is who I was before the accident." Marjorie shrugged. "But she's gone now..." 

"Gone..." He seemed to flinch, then relaxed when Marjorie took hold of his hand. "Well Marjorie...despite our circumstances, it IS nice to have met you." He seemed to realize she was waiting for something more, a rueful smile turning the corners of his mouth up. "My name is Killian." 

"Killian." She repeated, her own slight smile appearing. "It's a nice name." 

"I'm not very fond of it myself." He shrugged. "I just don't feel like a Killian." 

"What name do you feel like?" Curious she asked. 

"That's the thing...I really don't know..." He broke the connection of their hands, looking pointedly at the door. "And now you really have to go." 

"All right." She sighed, and moved that way. But before opening the door again, Marjorie looked back at Killian. "Is it all right if I come visit you again?" 

"You probably shouldn't..." He said. 

"I'm sure there is a dozen reasons why I shouldn't." Marjorie agreed. "But all the same..." 

"We're not friends." He was quick to remind her. "But...I wouldn't be the one to try and stop you." 

That would probably be Mr. Gold who would make such an attempt, Marjorie thought to herself. He wouldn't like her acquainting with the man who had shot her, the man who Gold himself had some kind of feud with. She didn't know what the two men's reasons were for hating one another so violently, and maybe she was acting irrationally, being downright defiant of what she could guess Gold's wishes on the matter would be. But Marjorie wanted to see Killian again, if only to have someone to commiserate about memory loss and the complications the truth would apparently cause them both. Killian wasn't the friend she was looking for, but he wasn't exactly an enemy either. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be Continued...


	9. Nine

There were many advantages to being the Dark One. Immeasurable power, boundless strength and energy, an immortal life and a near endless amount of time to accumulate a wealth of knowledge. Gold had whole stores of books, everything from the histories of the Enchanted Kingdoms, to a coveted collection of the rarest and most sought after books on magic, spells, curses and potions. He even had a ledger, where he kept track of just who owed him and for what, being sure to cash in on those debts as needed. 

Those debts seemed all but meaningless now, Gold ready to trade in every last one of them in order to be granted a miracle. In order to see Belle restored to her true self, her love and her memories back, the woman whole once more. It was to his immense frustration, to realize and know that currently, there was no one who had that kind of power. Not even the Queen, Regina, had the power to break a curse, let alone a curse as powerful as the one Gold had once made. 

All those debts owed, and the ledger was now all but useless. For he could think of nothing any of these people could do, nothing they could give him to make him feel better. The few people in Storybrooke who had a talent for magic? All had either learnt their best spells from HIM, or had trained under some talent less hack. Gold, or rather the Dark One, was the ultimate when it came to magical know how, and even as he had tapped into the memories of the being he shared an existence with, the Dark One had simply not known what to do. 

It was no wonder Gold had flown into a fury, tearing through his shop and home like a tornado had hit it. Things had been smashed, rifled through, discarded. Even the smallest, most inconsequential trinkets had been considered, Gold desperate for a counter to the curse that had stolen Belle's true self from her. 

He had poured over book after book, flipping through the pages, reading every single sentence with his own eyes. He couldn't, wouldn't trust a spell to search out the solution, not caring so much about the price he would pay, but needing to confirm with his own sight that the books had no help, no advice or suggestions for him to follow. 

Not that Gold had had time to go through EVERY book he owned. Not in a night already half spent, not even in a week's worth of nights. Not when his own library required an enchantment to exist outside of time and space, in order to cut down the room needed to store all those texts and tomes in half. 

Gold could see his future clearly. Endless nights being spent going through each individual book. He didn't sigh or complain, willing to endure this trial. Willing to do just about anything to bring back his beloved Belle, even deal with a devil who didn't exist. Gold now had a better understanding of the desperation that filled the people willing to make deals with HIM, with the Dark One. If Gold hadn't been who he was, he too would have been ready to sell his soul in order to bring Belle back to herself. 

The endeavor to do just that kept Gold from sleeping that night. He could go a lot longer than that without rest, the Dark One seeing sleep more as a luxury than the necessity that rejuvenated one's body and mind. Gold was ready to forgo sleep for as long as it took, for forever if need be, if it meant it brought him one step closer to finding a cure to the curse's magic. 

It was practically a single minded pursuit, Gold almost not noticing when it had become day. He'd toil for a few hours more, make note of some things he already knew would not work, and yet wanted to try anyway. And then, almost reluctantly, he'd put away his books, and restore his home to a cleaner state via some spells, before finally returning to the hospital. 

He had kept his phone next to him the entire night, the only thing besides his books to not be flung about during his furious raging. That phone had been vital, a quick source of communication between him and the hospital, Gold having left strict orders with Doctor Whales to call at the first sign of change or problem. Doctor Whales had known what would have happened, should the unthinkable occur, and Belle's situation worsened somehow. Gold would have literally tore the doctor apart limb by limb, should Belle be injured while under the Doctor's care. 

He was concerned for more than just Belle's memories. Gold wanted her safe, healthy, and protected. It wasn't lost on him that Cora was somewhere in Storybrooke, and that she might be plotting against her former teacher. She didn't have the magic to hurt the Dark One, at least not physically. But Belle? Belle was another case, the woman a prime target to either be hurt or used as a hostage. Gold didn't think Cora that foolish, but years HAD passed, and the woman might have grown stupid or desperate in that time. 

Not that Gold wanted to spend time worrying about Cora. So long as she kept away from him and Belle, the sorceress could be another person's problem. Of course, Gold wasn't going to leave it to chance that Cora would not target Belle. He had measures to take, protections to cast. The most important part of his plan to keep Belle safe, was to bring her home. Once situated in his home, with the protection spells in place, Cora would have a difficult if not impossible time of getting to Belle. 

Impatient to not only secure Belle's safety, Gold was also intent on getting her away from Hook. He didn't like that they were in the same building, and if he had had even the slightest inkling that they had been given rooms on the same floor, Gold would have gone ballistic. But whoever had made such an oversight, was so far safe from Gold's wrath, at least for now. 

No one tried to stop Gold as he walked through the hospital's front entrance, and past the waiting rooms. No one bothered to point out visiting hours had not yet begun for the day. Instead everyone was quick to avoid him, trying not to look at him, let alone catch his attention. Nearly everyone he passed feared him, some open in the way they cowered. Another time Gold would have taken note of who he saw, reminding himself if they owed him, or if there was still an opportunity for a deal to be someday made. 

Not today. Not when his only concern was Belle. He didn't care that there were other things going on, people hurrying about with worried, sometimes shifty looks on their faces. He certainly didn't care that he was interrupting Swan's talk with Whales, Gold walking right up to them, and not so much interjecting himself into their conversation as making his demands known. 

"Just how soon can you have the discharge papers ready for Belle?" 

Only Swan was impertinent enough to give him an annoyed expression, her caustic tone not able to be quite as biting, given how tired she appeared to be. Ordinarily, Gold would have smirked, but not now. Not when he was consumed with thoughts of the curse and Belle's unfortunate state. 

"Um, hello. Rude much?" Swan was asking. From the looks of her clothing, she had spent the night at the hospital. Gold could guess why, knowing that not only was Cora on the loose, but that some stranger had literally crashed into Storybrooke's world. 

Gold couldn't muster up much curiosity about the stranger, writing him off as yet another problem for the people of Storybrooke to deal with on their own. Swan could run herself ragged trying to deal with everything that was being dumped in her lap, for Gold had long ago decided on what his number one priorities were. Belle and his son. Both were the most important people in his life, the only two he was capable of caring for, of loving. Gold was not a man that let his affection be given easily, preferring to keep people at a distance, to use them and manipulate them, see them as only puppets and pawns of his own private agendas. 

Swan was just another puppet, valuable only so long as he could use her. And unless she developed the ability to break more than one curse, Gold had no use for her. To the point he was dismissive, tuning her out, to focus on Doctor Whales. 

"The discharge papers, doctor?" Gold reminded him, but any politeness he feigned was strained. 

Whales knew what side his bread was buttered, giving Swan an apologetic look, before nodding at Gold. "I'll get on them right away." 

"You'd best hurry." Gold said. "I'd like to have Belle home in time for lunch." 

"Hold it!" Snapped Swan, grabbing at Whales' arm. The doctor froze, a questioning look on his face. "Is Marjorie even in any condition to go home yet?" 

"She.." 

"Her NAME is Belle." Gold said in a scathing tone. "You'd best remember that, sheriff." 

"She WANTS to be called Marjorie." Swan retorted. 

"But that's not who she is!" 

"Right now, it is." Swan insisted. "It doesn't matter that her memories are messed up by a curse. It's who she feels comfortable as." 

"It's a lie." Gold hissed, and Swan arched an eyebrow at him. 

"And you're now the shining beacon of truth?" 

Gold narrowed his eyes at Swan, annoyed by her smart aleck tone. She wasn't cowed by his glare, just sighing. "Unless you intend to be completely truthful with her, this is one lie that might be more comforting than the truth." 

"I will let her know what she needs to know WHEN she needs to know it." 

"And who decided those are your decisions to make?" Swan demanded. 

"Whose to say they are not?" Gold countered. "You? Don't make me laugh. Let me explain something to you Sheriff. I know what I must look like to you. But let me assure you, appearances ARE deceiving, and I am still the man who everyone in this town rightfully fears." 

"Not everyone." Swan insisted. "And if any of that is true, then it's all the more reason why I shouldn't leave Marjorie in your care." 

"You and I both know you don't have any say in the matter." Gold gave her a cold, unpleasant, little smile. "Now let go of Doctor Whales arm, so he can get around to discharging Belle from this hospital." 

"First of all, I have more power than you think." Swan's smile was just as unpleasant as his. "Second..." She said, clearly having chosen to ignore the way Gold had scoffed in disbelief. "The Doctor hasn't even said if Marjorie is well enough to be discharged from the hospital." 

"It was one gun shot wound in the shoulder area. Hardly an injury to cause the doctor further concern." Gold answered. Swan turned to look at Whales, her back unwisely turned toward Gold. He couldn't see her expression, but somehow Gold had a feeling Swan was wearing a pleading look in her eyes. 

A pleading look that wasn't anywhere as effective as the fear Gold had caused in so many of Storybrooke's inhabitants. Doctor Whale was no different, a darting glance sent his way, the man seeking Gold's approval. He gave him a bored look, a slight tilt of his head indicating Whales should get on with it. 

"There's no further reason to keep her here." Whales wouldn't meet Swan's eyes, but neither did he mumble his sentences. "I can discharge her at any time, her injury such that she can get by with only the barest minimum of assistance. Provided she doesn't aggravate the injury with any sudden movements or heavy lifting..." 

"She won't." Gold said in an ominous tone, earning another of the Sheriff's glares. 

"So that's just it then?" She demanded. "He barks and you obey?" Swan let out an exasperated sound. "I'm disappointed Doctor. I didn't think you'd let anyone get in the way of treating a patient, let alone let one man's wishes cause you to potentially jeopardize the recovery of another's." 

"Belle going home with him would not in any way jeopardize her recovery." Whales insisted quickly. "As far as gun shot wounds go, this one is hardly anything. The real work will begin once her rest and recovery period is at an end." 

Few things missed Gold's attention, and this last statement by the doctor was no different. "What do you mean?" 

"She's going to need physical therapy on that arm." Whales explained. "It wasn't a life threatening injury, but it did do some damage. Rest will heal some of the problem, but I'm afraid there WILL be stiffness and pain in her future. She'll be clumsy, and may have difficulty getting the nerves to register all her commands at first." 

Gold's expression had turned ugly, the man feeling how tight his face grew in response to Doctor Whale's words. 

"Surgery could only do so much..." Whales hastily continued, looking as though he had paled in reaction to Gold's glare. "All things considered, she's really quite fortunate." 

"How?" Gold demanded with a glower. 

"The bullet could have hit and shattered bone." Doctor Whales answered. "The worst Belle has to fear is scarring and infection, and the latter is easily taken care of with the right medicines." 

Swan was looking at Gold now, her brow furrowed in worry. Clearly she could guess at how murderous his thoughts were becoming, Gold wanting to hurt---to kill Hook for all that had been done to Belle. The latest news on her injury, only exacerbated that desire. 

"Hook's under my protective custody." Swan said out loud. "You are not to hurt him." 

Gold gave her a look as though she was some small insect he could easily squash under foot. "I've honored Belle's wishes where that man is concerned." Another nasty smile. "When---if Belle returns to her true self, we'll see if she stills wishes for me to spare Hook's life." 

"Do you honestly believe she'd change her mind that easily?" Swan demanded. "I don't know her very well...." 

"You don't know Belle at all." Gold interrupted. 

"True enough." Swan agreed. "But from what I've heard, she has a forgiving nature. She's certainly made allowances for YOUR behavior and misdeeds. So I don't think a single bullet is suddenly going to change that about her. She's simply not the type to permit you, anyone, to kill another." 

Gold held Swan's stare, but inwardly he was seething. Seething because of the reluctant acknowledgement of Swan' words, Gold knowing all too well that Belle would never advocate for anyone's death, not even a person who had hurt her like Hook had. Or Regina, Gold remembering how disappointed Belle had been, when she learned Gold had released the wraith to target the evil queen. 

The wraith had failed, in thanks partly to Swan and her parent's actions. And just like Gold had relaxed his attempts to go after Regina, Hook too had been spared by Belle's plea for mercy. Gold wondered just how hurt Belle had to be, before she stopped trying to save people, but he hoped it never came to that point. Because the day Belle stopped her pure hearted efforts, was probably the day she would give up on HIM too. 

Inwardly flinching at the thought, Gold knew he couldn't give up on Belle either. Not until every last resource and magic was tried, not until there was no hope left of breaking the curse's memory stripping power. Gold wasn't sure what would happen then, what he would do, other than suffer one of the worst heart breaks of his life. A heart break that would be worse than the one dealt to him by Mila, for some part of Gold had known that woman hadn't really loved him. 

"I won't go near Hook." Gold said out loud. "Provided Belle is discharged and free to come home with me. Otherwise..." 

"I get it, I get it!" Swan snapped. "The sooner we get you and Marjorie out of this hospital, the safer Hook will be." 

"Precisely." 

"Fine. Doctor Whales, do what you have to." Swan sighed. "In the meantime, Mr. Gold and I have some things to discuss." 

"There is nothing we have to talk about." Gold told her. 

"There's plenty!" She exclaimed. "Never mind the fact you haven't told me just what the history between you and Hook is, a story I mean to have sooner rather than later. But there's also Cora and the stranger." 

"My past is of little concern to you. As for your other concerns, it's simply enough. If both die, then there won't be any problem, will there?" 

"Cora's not easy to kill, and the stranger is an innocent who had the misfortune of wandering into the wrong town." Swan pointed out. "I can't in good conscience allow him to die." 

"Then it appears you have a very big problem on your hands." Gold said. "Two of them if the stranger wakes up and remembers seeing my use of magic." Another exasperated breath, Swan worried and frowning. "I don't envy you, your job Sheriff. But neither can I offer much help..." 

"Can't or won't?" Swan questioned sharply. Gold merely shrugged, and moved to walk away. She called out after him, her tone withering as she said, "Cora and the stranger are not only my problem, alone. They're yours as well, they're everyone in this town's problem!" 

She actually shouted after him, but Gold didn't stop, didn't so much as turn to give her one last look. He just kept right on walking, intent on going to Belle's room, to deliver the news that she would soon be free to leave with him. Gold wished he could pretend she'd be thrilled at the news, but after last night, after that kiss, he simply couldn't guess how Belle felt. About him, about their relationship, about the past he had hinted at. It was frustrating to not know something, not to mention scary. Frustration Gold was too familiar with, but being afraid? That was something Gold hadn't felt in hundreds of years, and was another unpleasant something he owed Hook for. And despite what Swan wanted, what Belle had pleaded for, Gold intended to one day pay Hook back for all that had been done. And when that time came, Gold would make sure Hook wasn't left in any condition to come seeking revenge a second time.... 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


End file.
